Hermione Granger and the Laws of Destiny
by Patricia Sorbid
Summary: POST DH: No peace is forever. Mere decades after Voldemort's fall, a new Dark Lord rises, killing Hermione. But how can she truly die before she has fulfilled her destiny? This is Hermione's story of starting over. HHR Currently Hogwarts Year 1
1. Prologue: Peace Fallen Into Pieces

_Hermione Granger and the Laws of Destiny_

**Spoilers ahead. If you have not read **_**Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows**_**, it is highly recommended you do so before beginning this story.**

Disclaimer: This story builds off of the canon of J.K. Rowling's _Harry Potter_ series.

**A/N**: The end of The Deathly Hallows left me with a sense of contentment. However, although many questions were answered, I felt as though some gaps remained in the story. Some people weren't given full background, and some changes were abrupt. Nevertheless, the end gave us a glimpse of nineteen years into the future, full of peace. But since when has that peace ever been permanent?

**Summary**: After years of peace, the world around Hermione crumbles. She starts anew, but will she be able to find her true destiny?

**Prologue: Peace Fallen Into Pieces**

"_Bombarda Maxime_! _Reducto totalus_!"

The door shook, the walls trembled.

_WHOOSH_!

An eerie breeze flew underneath the door. The wind whirled around, swirling through the neatly stacked papers, swimming straight through her thick grey to her scalp.

_Cold. Ice cold_.

Evil had come knocking at her office door.

Her round brown eyes looked at the door and widened. The door shook with such force it should have fallen off of its hinges. Even with the magical enhancements still clinging on the portal, the door was much too weak. This attack was too soon, she wasn't prepared, everything had gone wrong, how could all of this be?

"_Bombarda Maxime!"_

_CRUSH!_

A hinge buckled under pressure, the reinforced door was failing.

Now was not the time to panic. She would just have to stay calm.

Wand shaking, Hermione Granger reacted quickly.

"_Salvio Hexia_… _Protego Totalum_…" she rapidly incanted, not stopping for breath. Unwavering, she continued muttering spells until the door of the office finally fell, overpowered by sheer magical force. A rough blue light overcame the room. Her wand fell as she coughed in the dusty, magical fog.

Gasping for breath, Hermione contemplated fighting the intruders. She'd have a decent chance, even if it was against a moderately sized group. But then she saw his face. The red flush in her cheeks instantly faded, leaving pale skin colored by age alone.

A tall thin man with a jet-black goat tee scowled down at her. It was _him_.

Xuan Wu, the new Dark Lord, had come to kill her in. Against such power, there was nothing Hermione could do. Her death was imminent. Shaking slightly, Hermione saw her past flash before her eyes.

HGHGHGHG

After the collapse of Voldemort's dark regime, the Wizarding World found itself at a crossroads. With bright young minds leading he way, the country experienced a renaissance of peace and prosperity unparalleled in the last few centuries. Muggle technology and wizard discoveries began to merge overtime, creating innovations that revolutionized daily life for the magical world.

Hermione was proud to be part of the cusp of change, but her true happiness came from elsewhere. More than the physical, she cherished the chance to live in a world that was not tinged by constant peril. She loved her family and friends, and enjoyed every precious moment she had with them. However, their happiness was tempered over time: they learned, as had many generations before them, that no peace is permanent.

Long ago, Albus Dumbledore had been the bright light that led the Wizarding World, protecting them from the dark. When he fell, so did Britain's protection, allowing Voldemort to sweep over the realm. Even with Voldemort's demise, there remained no beacon of hope in the Magical World. In this time of troubles, the people searched in themselves, coming together as a group. Indeed, it took a variety of people, not one, to fill this void of power. In time, the Ministry of Magic came to lead the Wizarding World into a new age of prosperity.

It would be historically incorrect to glaze over the Ministry and call it completely reformed. No matter how hard these revolutionaries worked, there would still be the conservative powers that lobbied behind the scenes, directing society in ways unseen. And despite effective policies, the government faced a bureaucracy that grew ever more stagnant as the years passed. Despite a façade of stability and success, the government was slowly decaying from the inside out.

As one of the forerunners of change in the government, Hermione was one of the first to notice when the situation turned for the worse. Simple policy suggestions would take months simply to be read, and many undesirable changes were shuffled off of the schedule without any hesitation. Hermione would spend the rest of her life battling against those who wished for tradition to remain, and she would spend years trying to reform the reforms she had already made. But she knew this was all for naught; as long as there were those who opposed her, her government would never be able to stop decaying. It was a simple, but difficult truth for Hermione: despite her best efforts, she had failed.

Understanding how vulnerable an ineffective government left her country (and perhaps more importantly, those who she loved), Hermione kept an ear out for news, listening for the winds of change. If they ever came blowing, it would be her responsibility, not her 'prosperous' government's, to protect

One day, that wind knocked on her door. It was a grim, overcast night, and the trees were swaying in the wind. Awoken by the loud creak of wood bowing to breeze, Hermione made herself a cup of tea in hopes of calming herself so she could head back to sleep. Yawning as she stirred her tea lazily, Hermione's eyes snapped open.

Something didn't feel right. It was as though the air felt funny. And Hermione very well knew that funny was not a good feeling.

Unable to ignore the feeling, she tiptoed her way outside to the front porch, where she sat sipping tea and reading a book by wandlight. After an hour of silent reading, Hermione felt her chair rock in the breeze. She finally understood. When that wind danced through her hair, she felt it. The wind carried what she could only describe as palpable darkness.

Wary of this potential, Hermione began to watch the world more carefully than ever before. Building off of Dumbledore's habit, Hermione took to reading a variety of Muggle and Magical newspapers. Going a step further, she even began to read foreign papers. The stack of papers that greeted Hermione on her front step every morning was quite a hefty piece of reading, but Hermione didn't mind it. She enjoyed glancing over the news, from the trivial local news to the developments in the rain forests of Brazil. And more importantly, it was this extensive news reach that informed her of trouble abroad.

On one particularly depressing stormy morning, Hermione woke up to find her translated _Daily Dragon (_a Beijing-based newspaper owned by the _Daily Prophet_) much thicker than usual. She pulled it out of the stack of papers and glanced at the headline. Her jaw, and the paper, instantly fell.

Atop of the fallen papers, she saw the moving image of a greasy man with a sharp, dark goatee. His eyes were cast in a vile green. His grin was maniacal. Just looking at his sharp face sent shivers down Hermione's back, there was some aura about him…

The title truly explained it all: _Dark Lord Xuan Wu Rises._

It was the breeze of change she had felt. It had finally come. It was this Xuan Wu, who had potential, potential to change to the world.

Hermione remained hopeful for the next few weeks, with the paper reporting that the Chinese Ministry was successfully abating the progress of the madman. But her hope began to fade as she saw the telltale signs of the Dark Lord's hidden progress: people disappearing, strange actions by trusted individuals and tragic accidents all littered the paper's pages. And as these listed disappearances and disasters began to increase, so did Hermione's anxiety.

The Chinese newspapers only grew more and more grim as the days passed. After months of reported disappearances, the Dark Lord finally began a more offensive strategy. He began to attack whole cities at a time. Hermione watched as the Dark Lord swept through China like cursed fire; province after province, the magical communities would fall to his troops, until at last only the city of Beijing remained.

That next day, the day of the expected fall of the capital city, the newspaper suddenly changed tone and direction. Hidden in the pages of paper, Hermione was startled to see the bold measures the Ministry had begun to counter any recent progress. But surprised or not, she read the signs, and she new what this subtlety meant: a Ministry takeover was complete.

Throughout China's fall from grace, fear stewed in Hermione. She took a great deal of precautions. But even with her constant warnings, her government took no heed. Hermione decided to abandon her job at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to work in Magical Law Enforcement. This change in profession provided her with a stepping-stone to the Minister and other ministries in cases of national security, something she was sure she would need in the near future.

Hermione set her plan into action. As she read the darkening news from abroad, she began to build contacts abroad, working from European partners to other governments throughout the world. Yet there was an undertone in this work that disturbed Hermione; despite her evidence of evil's rise, these people refused to work together. As much as she struggled to assemble a worldwide force of people to defend, everyone else asserted that there was no threat to them. They would also go as far as to argue that the Chinese government would never come to their aid if they were in the same situation. Frustrated with the lack of progress, Hermione redoubled her efforts. But with her own Ministry, she found the same obstacle; no one wished to help China, everyone felt as though the threat were isolated. As the days passed, Hermione's desperation grew. She abandoned her planning, and began to search for a way to possibly blockade Xuan Wu's expansion.

Without any other choice, Hermione adapted. Without any other choice, she struggled with her Ministry to see reason and to send help to China immediately. Without any other choice, she told Harry. There was no one else for her to go to; everywhere she turned, her fears were laughed at as unreasonable. All that was left were her friends, the only people who would ever trust her opinion on the matter.

Hermione had asked Harry to join her at the local teashop that day. They blended in well with the Muggles, not even noticeable to the trained eye. Hidden at a small corner table in the dim restaurant, they were talking in hushed voices and silently sipping their tea. Hermione had just told Harry about the Dark Lord, and he wasn't reacting quite as well as she had hoped. His normally jovial face had instantly hardened, and he looked at her with cold eyes.

"But everyone says this Xuan Wu is no threat to us. Why do you think any different?" Harry asked Hermione incredulously. She studied him for a moment and took a sip of tea. They were at the local teashop, stationed at a small table in the corner.

"Because, I have a feeling."

"Oh, a feeling, a lot of good that'll do you. No wonder no one believes you."

"I mean to say that evil has no bounds. Xuan Wu is a threat to us. China is a country of over a billion people, currently dominated by a man who terrorizes with his dark magic. Their Ministry has fallen, just as ours did years ago. With such forces, he could easily begin a worldwide assault. If he's tasted that power, he'll want more. What's really disconcerting is no one's sure what his reason for rapid expansion is. He claims to only want China, but there's something very wrong about this. Since when do dictators keep promises? I think the world's missing some very important aspect of about this man."

"I'd be content if I had China abiding by every flick of my wand. I wouldn't want to challenge the rest of the world powers, anyway. Too risky."

"But you're not him, and you're not in his position of power. Once he has felt power, once he has tasted the forbidden fruit, he will want more. And with such great manpower, he could very easily overcome ministries one by one."

"But if that happens, everyone will step in."

"That might be true, but at that point, it will be much too late. I think he's secretly planning and gathering troops right now. I'm almost positive he will be able to sweep through Asia much to fast for us to prepare."

"How do you know?"

"Inferences. Contacts abroad. I can see things when they're not all that apparent," replied Hermione testily.

"Fine. Let's say I believe you for a moment; there's been peace for so long—how could—how could this be happening so soon? It's only been fifty years since Voldemort," asked Harry, desperate for this to be untrue.

"Well, the problem stems from oppression, which eventually leads to the rise of a tyrant… I've tried to research what exactly set Xuan Wu off but it's too much guesswork. I have no idea, only hunches. And with the infrastructure of his country in ruins, it's been nigh impossible to even find his birth date, or any information on his infancy and childhood. I don't know if he's a Mudblood hater, or something else altogether. But I am certain that his thirst for power will not be quenched so easily. And as for your question of 'soon,' you very well know that the last span between Dark Lords in Europe alone lasted a few short decades."

"But that's still unheard of."

"I'll admit, it's a short span between evil powers. It's very odd, indeed. All I can say is that there have always been Dark Lords rising and falling all over the world, just usually not at the same time. And all over the world, people have faced them," stated Hermione.

"Then why is Xuan Wu our problem? It's China's problem, let them solve it. No one helped me when Voldemort was around. I don't see why you're asking me to go try to set things right."

"I would never think you would be one to shift culpability for evil to one nation alone, but apparently I was mistaken," snapped Hermione.

"A this point, I just want peace," Harry replied tiredly.

"I don't doubt it," replied Hermione coolly. "But you have to open your eyes and help these people. I've exhausted all of the legitimate channels of help. No one's listening. I need someone to help me, I need you, Harry. I need everyone."

"No, we're insulated from this problem. It makes more sense for me to stay home, stay here and rest in peace."

"When you say rest in peace, you make it sound as though you're dead."

"You know very well what I mean by it!"

"No, I don't. You're acting as good as dead because you're not helping them! The Harry I know would have gone off to help these people. The Harry I know had a saving people thing," she whispered angrily.

"That was a long time ago… I'm older now and I won't recklessly risk my life and leave behind those I love. I can't."

"But don't you see? If you don't go now, they'll be in grave danger."

"We don't know that for sure."

"Would you let that stop you from ensuring their safety?"

"But what if I never see them again?"

"That never stopped you before!"

"I was younger then…"

"True…"

"Is it selfish to want to be love and be loved in return?"

"No, but it's selfish not to protect that love!" replied Hermione, slamming her teacup on the table. The people around her gave her curious looks before turning back to their idle chatter.

"It's never been our problem before, when a Dark Lord has risen abroad," said Harry calmly. "Why is it now?"

"Because the world has changed. Long ago, we didn't realize there was a connection between continents. Even wizards were limited in knowledge of geography. Dark Lords remained isolated in their power. They may have desired to expand their reigns of darkness, but they didn't know where it could be expanded. "

"But wizards aren't Muggles. They've always had the Floo and Portkeys to overcome distances. Maybe they didn't know about the 'New World,' but they had access to the whole of the old."

"Very good, Harry. But what most people don't realize is that Portkeys weren't as effective then, neither was Floo. True, you travel much faster than any Muggle. But they could only go so far, and jumping too much was a threat a Wizard's welfare. Splinching happened even when Apparition wasn't involved. Our travel has taken so long to perfect."

"So what exactly are you saying?"

"The farthest a Magical Empire could reach would be a continent due to limitations in Magical technology. Today, however, both Muggles and wizards are more connected than ever before. Floo, Apparition, and Portkey technology and techniques have reached new heights of traveling. They're more effective than ever before, and wizards and witches can move around the world at the drop of a pointed hat. In other words, globalization has brought us closer together, but has also made world domination a more readily achievable goal."

"So you mean to say that they'll be here. Soon."

"Yes, and if you're going to suggest I go to the Ministry of Magic, I already have. I informed the Minister, his underlings, their underlings, and so on. I've had no luck whatsoever. The Minister assured me they were on top of everything worldwide and that law-abiding citizens such as myself had nothing to fear. And everyone seems to believe that drabble."

"I thought we had reformed our government."

"We had, but these things have a way of unraveling right when you glance away. Harry, I've tried everything I can think of, I've contacted the people I know, people I don't know, people I thought would help me. Nothing's worked. I know you don't want to risk losing your loved ones, but you have to protect them. We need to form some sort of resistance, and you're one of the only people who will believe me."

"Hermione."

"If we can get enough people together, we can put together a guerrilla resistance. Maybe the old crowd? That'll be our only chance to stop Xuan Wu's advance through Asia and into Europe. From there, he would be able to usurp power in Africa then move to South America and sweep up through Central America into the North… You'll be facing numbers you've never even fathomed, teetering on the edge of death at every turn, but…"

"I'll go, Hermione. For them. Ron, Ginny and I will all go. We'll find people, we will," said Harry, finally accepting this as his duty. "I assume you'll be staying behind?" Harry's eyes wandered to Hermione's bad leg.

"I really don't think I'd be of help with my lame leg, let alone my arthritis, and you know that dragon pox only helped it inflame my joints even more… No, I'll help you get people to go, I do have some—er—techniques I haven't used yet, but I do think one of us should stay behind here, and, well, protect our families, worst come to worst. Some of you may never come back and we don't want the children to be left parentless or grandparentless. I'll continue to recruit for all of you, I've already moved to the Magical Enforcement Office…"

"It's true, I wouldn't want them left alone…You seemed to have this pretty well planned, yeah?" asked Harry.

"I've been turning it over in my mind for months," Hermione admitted.

And so it had come to pass that Hermione stayed in Great Britain as a last defense measure, as she would protect their families.

She engineered a massive plan to protect all she knew, worst come to worse. At its center was herself: she became Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm for the main house, protecting the Secret Keepers for the rest of their families. In secrecy they lived, unsure of what was to come.

And Hermione waited, waited until a small, black owl brought home news.

The owl flew in and dropped the letter off on her kitchen counter. Before Hermione even looked up from the newspaper, the owl was gone. Glancing downwards, she saw the letter, tidily rolled up and tied in a neat red ribbon. She was nervous about what it could mean and anxious to read it. Taking a deep breath, she strode over to the counter, snatched up the letter and began to read.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Things haven't been going too well. Since we got here, we haven't had a moment's peace. We could never write, or they could trace us back to Britain. But I had to chance this letter. It's time you know what we've seen, and I need to tell someone about it, I'd go crazy if I didn't…_

_I've never seen so many dark wizards so intent on destroying. Not all of them are gifted, but all of them want to kill. Led by Xuan Wu (you can spot his goatee a mile away), they've begun sweeping through the lands we arrived in. All of us were optimistic at first, but we were fools. We had no idea what was to come._

_We've done our best to put up a fight, but our best hasn't been enough. We've lost almost everyone. Our last battle was a blood bath… Xuan Wu came right to us, picking everyone off, one by one, like we were Wispy Flies… I've never seen something so terrible as him. He makes Voldemort seem as nice and good as a Pygmy Puff. You remember those? George and Fred bred them back when they were both alive…_

_It was pure luck I survived. I guess my Bat-Boogey hex through off some of my enemies and let me escape, but it was sheer dumb luck if you ask me…Before I fled the battle, I saw Harry fighting him, fighting the Dark Lord. Harry reminded me of Dumbledore, Hermione, but unlink Dumbledore, Harry was fighting to kill. And you know what? Harry didn't kill that bastard. Nothing could stop the Dark Lord, and Harry…_

_I saw Harry die, Hermione. Watched my husband die in front of me. And I saw Ron die too. My brother, he's always there for me, he's been a prat, but he's always been there. Luna, Neville… all dead. I feel like half of me is missing. Everything I do is mechanical. There's been too much blood…_

_Hermione, you're going to have to fight too. Before Harry died, he told me to warn you. He told me that you should protect the Elder wand, keep it away from the Dark Lord at all costs, which Xuan Wu can now wield... Hide it, Hermione. Hide it away. If he ever finds it, his reign of darkness may never end. You must remove it from Dumbledore's tomb and place it somewhere he'd never find…_

_ It's hard to admit, but after what I've seen, I'll probably be dead by the time this letter arrives._

_I wrote this letter to warn you Hermione. Use it well._

_Be safe, Hermione. Take care of my children._

_Love,_

_Ginerva Potter_

Hermione sobbed, silently shedding tears and soaking the parchment through. She couldn't stop crying. It had been her fault for sending all of them off to the fight, and it had been her fault they died. She should have gone too, maybe if she had been there, things would be different. Maybe as a team, they could have defeated the Dark Lord. Together. She had lost her husband, her friends, the people who loved her. They were gone.

_You can't think that way, Hermione. You have to move on. You've come too far to stop now; you stayed so you could protect your families and give them a mother and a grandmother. It was the right choice,_ she thought, trying to convince herself that it was true. She tried to convince herself that she made the right the decision, but never could. She felt a guilt that overcame her, that convinced her that she was a coward.

She waited months for it to happen. She expected the day would finally come when the Dark Lord would arrive. But when he came, she was still surprised. Her time had come and he would take her, and if he ever found the wand she had carefully hidden, he might take the world, plunging the earth into darkness.

And here she was, in the Ministry of Magic, facing the Dark Lord at last. She faced him, and thought of all the people she had lost in her life because of evil.

_Dobby gone, knife through the heart._

Hermione looked up into the man's slimy eyes, staring evil in the face.

_Fred killed, a smile left on his face forever in death._

Her eyes fell to her wand, which fell in surprise…

_George committed suicide, too alone in the world to go on and leaving laughter behind._

Her hand inched towards her wand, growing ever nearer.

_Sirius fallen through the veil and into the great beyond._

Her fingers touched it.

_Cedric Diggory, an acquaintance, killed by Avada Kadavra._

She grasped her wand, feeling the magic.

_Dumbledore murdered, murdered by his greed but also his love._

Her eyes flew back up to the Dark Lord, where they would stay.

_Snape slaughtered for something as trivial as a wand._

Her lips pursed, a look of determination settling on her face.

_Mad-Eye Moody shot down as he flew to his death, betrayed by a coward._

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

_Lupin murdered in battle, fighting to protect Harry._

She raised her wand, threatening the Dark Lord.

_Tonks dead, slayed by a stray curse thrown by Bellatrix Lestrange._

The Dark Lord smiled at her, but Hermione paid no mind.

_Hedwig, Harry's friend, slaughtered, an innocent in the way of evil._

The spell flew into her mind. She knew it was time for it.

_Countless others lost, friends seen, friends unseen, Muggles just trying to live in a world that didn't understand them, couldn't understand them. This was for them, for the innocents, for the brave, for the people she loved—_

"_Avada Kedavra_," she screamed with all of her might, channeling her hate for evil into the spell. The green light danced out of her wand and stroke the man dead center in his chest. For a moment, Hermione looked triumphant. But then her look of triumph disintegrated. The man in front of her stood quite still. He had not died. He had, instead, begun to laugh. A sinister, evil cackle escaped through his lips.

"Do you think that you, a simple witch, has any chance against me, the greatest wizard this world has ever seen?" he drawled, his voice somewhat accented. Hermione was speechless. "Did you think you could kill me, when the greatest in the world have failed? You mock me." Hermione continued casting spells, but nothing seemed to touch him.

"_Reducto_! _Sectumsempra_! _Viscus mica_!" she screamed, watching the jets of light fly forward, each of them hitting the man in front of her, but doing nothing…

"_Avada Kedavra_."

The last thing Hermione saw was the green light, coming towards her, enveloping her completely.

A/N: Rowling made peace seem to last throughout the rest of Harry's life, but I seriously doubt that to be possible. Another Dark Lord would rise much too easily, and that is the premise of this story, which will carry us into the next chapter, where Hermione's real story unfolds itself.

Other A/N: For those wondering why Hermione's last name is still Granger, she never changed it when she got married. It was a matter of upholding her Muggleborn heritage and pride in who she was as a witch.


	2. Chapter 1: Destiny Revisited

This story also features immediate references to _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_. **If you haven't read the seventh book yet, I strongly advise against starting this story**. Come back and begin when you've read it!

"_Your friends will know you better in the first minute you meet than your acquaintances will know you in a thousand years_."

-Richard Bach

**Chapter 1: Destiny Revisited**

She screamed. She cried. She panicked.

If Hermione Jean Granger hadn't known any better, would have thought she was still alive. She was still conscious and felt alive, but hadn't she just been hit by _Avada Kedavra_?

On the other hand, her memory was blurry, there was an awful aftertaste of a severely bitter substance in her mouth, probably putrefied bile… oh, and there was the pain. She was in so much pain all over. She couldn't even comprehend what was happening. It all just hurt so much. She had to scream.

"Bloody Helllllll!" she cried hysterically, holding the note for what felt like minutes. There was no echo, only silence surrounding her.

"_Ahem, hem_," a man coughed discreetly, as though clearing his throat. Hermione continued to wail.

"Excuse me, miss?" he asked, louder this time. Hermione shrieked.

"Who-who are you? And what's happened to me? I'm dead, aren't I?" said Hermione desperately, wiping a tear. She crumpled over, clenching her diaphragm. She hadn't realized how hard it was to simply speak after screaming for so long. Straining her eyes, Hermione searched for the source of the voice, but all she perceived was darkness. Or nothingness. She couldn't decide which it was.

"Yes, you're dead, killed by a Dark Lord, which should have never happened. But let's not talk about that now," the voice answered, warmly. _Too_ warmly. "It is my pleasure to welcome you, Ms. Granger, to the beginning of the end." He sounded like a grandfather figure.

"I don't think that's right," corrected another voice, sharper than the first. The tone was lighter, but with more force, it was a man, too … "It's more like just the plain old beginning. She's already ended, as I'm sure she's gathered…"

"But isn't that cliché?"

"No, it's stating fact."

"Are you sure?"

"Effing positive."

"Really?"

"No. Actually, I've been lying the whole time."

"I knew it!"

"There's no winning with you, is there? At least you're not as bad as the dunce…" drawled the second, sharp voice.

"Someone called me?" piped up a third voice, deep and dull. If Hermione didn't know any better, she'd say he sounded like he had drunk a few too many Firewhiskys. Considering she had just died, this whole scene seemed too surreal. Arguing voices? It just wasn't right in her mind.

"Oh, now you join in! A bit late I might add!" quipped the second.

"Now stop! This must be confusing for the girl. We really should introduce ourselves," stated the first voice, softer and kinder than the others. "I'm Brother Guidance."

"I'm Brother Intelligence," snapped the sharp one.

"And I'm…I'm…" stumbled the third.

"He's Brother Likeness," offered Guidance.

"Really, must we introduce him for goodness sakes? It's his name!"

"Well, you know how he is Intel!"

"No, I don't Guy. Please explain it for me," said Intelligence irritably.

"Don't play dumb with me," grunted Guidance, losing all pretense of kindness. "You know very well how he is. He is your brother, after all."

"Oh, me, play dumb?" said Intelligence innocently. "I would never. After all, that's Likeness's job, isn't it?"

"Really Intelligence, why must you embarrass us…"

"Stop," Hermione interrupted. "It's nice to know you're names, but you didn't really tell me who you are."

"She's smart. I like her," said Intelligence, brightening right up.

"You…would," said Likeness, slowly sounding out each syllable.

"How could you—grrr—you just let him make fun of me like that, Guidance. I was being nice and he has to make the situation funny, then you have the nerve to say nothing. I can't believe you Guidance! You're supposed to guide!" ranted Intel. Hermione was strangely intrigued by this brotherly dynamic.

"You can't push everyone so that they bend to your every whim, and I don't see how he was making fun of you," snapped Guidance. "He was merely commenting, as he always does. And now, you've got me mad, too. Sometimes I hate living with you two. Why do you have to make my existence so difficult," snapped Guidance.

"We're brothers," answered Likeness.

"First smart thing he's said all day," said Intel coolly.

"Please," wheezed Hermione, clearly in pain. "Just tell me who you are!"

"Oh yes, sorry my dear." Guidance smiled. "We are the laws that govern your world. We embody concepts that come together to dictate destiny."

"You know you hide behind your fancy words? She might be able to understand them, but eloquence is not found in challenging the audience's mind!" Intel said testily. Hermione grimaced.

"So…you're gods?" she asked.

"No, I was trying not to say gods, because gods we are not. We are but laws. Think of us as like the laws of physics or magic," replied Guidance.

"Except, we actually appear as people. I know you can't see us, but you'll have to trust my word. It's a pity it's so dark… Let me assure you, the laws of physics are not people. They're just there. They cannot speak or act as we can. It's—well— complicated," stated Intel. Hermione nodded, but had no idea what he had just said: a lesson this otherworldly was quite impossible for her to truly grasp, much to her frustration.

"I'm sure you're wondering what you're doing here, dear. Well, you're dead. But sadly, not for the first time. No, this is the hundredth time you've died and come before us. And oddly enough, each time you've come before us, you've died a different way. It's most intriguing…" stated Guidance, as though this was an every day piece of information. Hermione gasped. Dying one hundred times wasn't exactly something she'd want to repeat…

"But why don't I remember you, then? I would, I know it."

"Yes, I have no doubts of that," said Guidance warmly. "But we've given you a clean slate each life, to start anew and to right your wrongs."

"He means to say we've erased your memories. Repeatedly. Permanently. Then sent you back to live your life again," Intel corrected.

"But why? Why would you do something like that? Why wouldn't you let my soul rest in peace?" asked Hermione angrily.

"Well, normally we do, but in your rare case, you have yet to meet your destiny. And well, we govern destiny. It's our job to ensure you get there."

"So I have no free will?"

"Of course you do! All we can do is point you in the right direction. You have to do the rest. And let me assure you, most people arrive within the bounds of destiny within their allotted lifetime. However, others do have trouble finding their way and must receive our assistance before success. And then, there a select few that need every ounce of help to get to where fate wants them. You're in the lattermost, dear."

"Well that's comforting!" replied Hermione irritably.

"Like I said, I like her. Always have," reminded Intel.

"You would…" said Likeness dully.

"Why can't you think of another comeback?"

"You would…"

"It's really grating, you know."

"You would…"

"That didn't even make sense!"

"You would…"

"You fool!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the exchange. If she had a floor to stand on, she would have tapped her foot impatiently. Instead, she just listened as Intel fumed for a while. The bickering only stopped when Guidance yelled.

"I'm sorry this is taking so long, but as the years go on, Likeness takes on more human memories and becomes, well, worse for the wear," said Guidance sadly.

"But not everyone acts like that! How can taking on human memories make him so dim-witted to the point he's not even human-like?" replied Hermione skeptically.

"Well, sadly, human memories are not good for us laws to take on, but we've had no choice in the matter. As Guidance, I've had to correct so much. Likeness has had his own role to play too. He's most alike to the people we govern, and therefore, he gets human memories left behind by people who die. They have to go somewhere, it just happens to be him. It's a pity, but he's still our brother."

"How stupid is he, exactly?"

"Oh, well, he's actually wittier than Intelligence. His just a bit out of it, and his diction's insufficient for his desired mode of expression."

"It's true," nodded Intel.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry!"

"Don't be. He knew long ago…"Guidance murmured.

"Let's help! One hundredth first time is big charm!" chimed in Likeness.

"She's not bloody one hundred and one Dalmatians. She's one girl! And she needs help! We are not sending her back to live again after one hundred mishaps!" replied Intel.

"Dalmatians not blood red… black and white!"

"Everything's black and white with you, isn't it?"

"Also grey."

"But that's also black and white. Quite literally, actually."

"No, it's gray."

"He really knows how to push Intel's buttons, doesn't he?" Hermione asked Guidance quietly. They were both listening in as the two brothers continued to fight. Guidance laughed.

"Of course Likeness does. Like I said, he's smart," Guidance replied. "And we're brothers. It's what we do." After a few more rounds of the battle, quiet descended and Intel conceded defeat.

"Fine! You're right! Again," said Intel, breathing loudly. "But now we need to help her!"

"Agreed," Guidance said. "But I don't think sending her back again will make a difference. One hundred times should have been enough. It always has been."

"Memories," said Likeness.

"Yes, you're getting her memories. Again. We've already established that, haven't we? We might have not outright said it, but it was implied," said Intel irritably.

"No, her memories. Not mine."

"Oh, great, now you're saying you're going to stop taking memories! You have impeccable timing, you know," said Intel.

"No, wait," said Hermione thoughtfully. "I think he wants me to keep my memories this time. You know, do something different. See if it works."

"You may just be onto something!" said Guidance. "I guess it is a bit of a possibility. We've done something close to it before…"

"No, this is not an option, if we disobey the laws, we will cease existence as we are law. You know that Guy!"

"But if we walk the line…"

"It's not worth ceasing to be!"

"But we really do need to do something different this time. If she can't reach her destiny soon, we have inherently failed, and failure also results in the end of our existence!"

"Don't be so melodramatic."

"In all reality, we should try something different, and this sounds plausible enough. And I guess this isn't _too_ intrusive. Those memories are, after all, yours, not something of ours. No rules should be broken if you keep them, although some may be bent..."

"Bent is close to breaking…"

"Shush you."

"Not breaking!"

"Maybe we'll let her keep her memories…"

"Yes. Very right. Now time for her to go. Try again. Keep trying. Keep trying. Hermione Granger. _Keep trying_."

"I think, he likes you too," said Intelligence. "It would appear…he really wants your destiny to be fulfilled, hence his repetition of keep trying. Well if he really thinks letting you keep your memories will work…"

"Now time to go!" said Likeness.

"He's right, you know," said Guidance. "After all, destiny awaits her."

"Why don't you just tell me my destiny so I could fulfill it?" asked Hermione. This whole situation was a bit confusing for her. She couldn't grasp why they wouldn't make everything simpler. It seemed so easy.

"Then the destiny has no meaning. It is not yours, but one that you think is yours," replied Guidance. "Now come along, let's not keep destiny waiting!" He seemed a bit annoyed with her.

"Wait… one last question before I go. Any suggestions?"

"With your memories, you will be given many options. Do what is right, what you know is right. That is my best advice, although I sincerely believe that you already know that. Your memories may also have some holes and inaccuracies. Remember, your memories are but guidelines to a new life you must explore on your own terms. Simple changes may mean you'll face obstacles you've never met before. Just make sure to live, laugh, and most importantly, love," said Guidance.

"Thank you," said Hermione.

"You're welcome dear. Oh, and don't worry. We'll be seeing you. A puddle there, a rainstorm here. I'm always Guidance. Here to guide. There to guide."

"And if you need some help that books don't have, Intelligence is always here, always there" said Intel kindly. "And Likeness is a good listener with even better advice, if you haven't noticed. We'll be watching you Ms. Granger. And we'll be ready to help you. We can't do much, but we'll do our best. This is your destiny, and you deserve it. Good bye. For now."

The three brothers stood in the nothing and watched as the old woman slowly faded dust, and as the dust slowly began drifting away, dissipating in the nothingness. Soon, Hermione Jean Granger would be reborn.

**HGHGHGHG**

September 19, 1979, at 1:13 AM in a small, old hospital on the northeastern coast of England, a small girl, 5lbs., 11 ounces, was born to Elizabeth and Saul Granger. She appeared normal to all those who gazed down at her. She already had a thick head of frizzy brunette hair that matched her big, brown eyes. Her features were soft, and there was no way to deny she was a pretty child. Not perfect, but ever so pretty. With time these features would fade, but she would always be pretty.

The baby lay there, looking at the world with intense curiosity. Her name, as destiny would have it, was Hermione Jean Granger, and everyone thought she was just like any other child. They had no idea.

Hermione remembered. She could not yet speak, no, her body was not ready for her to do that yet, but she remembered, her little mind, augmented with magic, remembered a life of trials, of friends lost, of friends gained, of tragedy, and love. Everything felt so clear, but then there were holes, ragged edges she couldn't quite understand. She yearned to say so much, to scream out in agony, to mutter words of affection, but she said nothing. She didn't cry, she just smiled and looked at her mother, soon falling asleep in her warm embrace.

For a year, Hermione continued to grow. Her parents were so proud of her, they knew she was special. Of course, they had no idea she was a witch, but they noticed her spectacular wit. Hermione said her first word by eight months old, walked by eight and half months, and by a year, she was speaking in phrases. Such cognitive ability so young was amazing. But what was truly amazing was the unseen.

**HGHGHGHG**

In suburbs of London, two dentists lived quietly with a gifted daughter in a tidy four bedroom house. It was late in the afternoon as the three settled down for an evening routine. But then, something out of the ordinary occurred—

BOOM!

The bookshelf came crashing to the ground, the one Hermione had been playing on seconds earlier—

"Hermione!?" Saul called out.

"What's the ruckus—is Hermione alright?" asked a worried voice from the kitchen.

"I dunno!" Saul replied, jumping out of his seat and running towards the bookshelf. All of the sudden, the lines of worry disappeared from his face. Hermione was there, sitting on the bookshelf, as though it falling were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Are you sure everything's alright?"

"Yes, Hermione's fine, but you should still come here," beckoned Hermione's father, a plump man with soft blonde hair and a warm, round face. He gazed at his daughter on the floor. His bright green eyes were sparkling a mixture of excitement, interest, and pure astonishment.

"Is it worth putting dinner on hold? I can hear Hermione laughing, she sounds fine…"

"Yes, it's worth putting dinner on hold!" he replied. It would just be easier to explain what he saw, how bizarre it was. Everything had happened so quickly, it just a confusing blur of events. And Elizabeth would want to know about it, since it had to do with Hermione.

"Really now? You make it sound like she's hurt…"

"She's not hurt, but still, you have to come and see this!"

"If you insist—but I hope you know you're delaying dinner. I know I couldn't like with such a huge blemish on my conscience," Elizabeth added candidly, striding into the room. At five foot eleven, Elizabeth Granger looked intimidating with her smoothed apron tidily worn over her work outfit. Her deep brown eyes, high cheeks, and tightly braided thick brown hair only added to her imposing stature. Saul, however, was the least bit deterred by her stern demeanor. At six feet tall, he was only barely taller than her. For some people of his stature, Beth's level gaze would be extremely intimidating, but Saul knew her too well to be frightened. He understood that her appearance was just a façade.

"Really dear, look at Hermione. Then you can get back to your precious dinner," he replied, grinning. She rolled her eyes and smirked before looking towards their daughter. Her eyes widened comically.

"What's the bookshelf doing on the floor, hmmm? And why's Hermione playing on it? Haven't I told you about laying guidelines for the girl?" snapped Elizabeth, her eyes alit with fire.

"I can explain," Saul replied calmly.

"You can explain?"

"Sort of?"

"Sort of!?"

"You see, I was watching Hermione, just like any other day, and I saw her walking around the room. Comfortable that she was safe, I looked away for a moment, grabbing the newspaper to read, but in that instant, she began to climb up the bookshelf. When I looked up, she was falling off of it as the books began flying out. The bookshelf fell, I jumped out of my chair to see if she was alright, and you know what, a second later, Hermione was fine!"

"So despite your irresponsibility, Hermione, for lack of better word, magically remained unharmed as books rained down on her, soon followed by the bookshelf falling to the floor," stated Elizabeth dryly.

"Yes, Beth, I know it's hard to believe, but it was very strange. She should have been hurt, but instead she somehow came to be out of the way, unscathed! I just had to tell you. It was so _odd_," replied Saul.

"One odd thing, among many, I fear," said Elizabeth. "Things just aren't running normally around here, are they? Bookshelves falling, daughters coming close to deaths…"

"Don't you worry about it! Really, the bookshelf was the exception, not the rule. It shouldn't have fallen, and I'll reinforce it and all the other ones. Don't start worrying about it. It worries me when you worry and then everything just gets too stressful handle," said Saul reassuringly. He stood up and embraced Beth in a warm hug.

They both stood there for a moment. Beth's face softened as she let her uttered a prolong sob, her eyes shining with tears. And all the while, Hermione looked on, silently taking in the whole event.

Hermione was surprised when the bookshelf began to topple over, and she should have been righ underneath it. Out of pure instinct, she reached deep inside of herself for something to help her. Oddly enough, something ended up responding. Her magic was there, ready to help her. Manifested in wandless form, Hermione banished herself away from the falling shelf.

The ability to use wandless magic so young made her extremely proud of her abilities, but it had already brought her father's realization that something strange was afoot in the Granger household. Then her mother used "magic" to describe the event, which was a bit too spot on for Hermione. And then her mum went on to talk about how things have been off, things just weren't running as smoothly as usual for some reason.

As Hermione's magic grew, so did the number of strange events in the Granger house. Books began to suddenly disappear, only to reappear a few days later; the furniture began to rearrange itself almost weekly, confounding any room plan made by the Grangers; Hermione's favorite drink, skim milk, never seemed to be empty. However, her Muggle parents were blissfully ignorant of her hidden powers, but to seemed to notice that something was not quite right. Still, they did not connect the odd occurrences to their daughter. Instead, they focused on more tangible elements of Hermione's growth. They watched as Hermione picked up books and witnessed her reading became an addiction. She began to read books, and arguably, never stopped. She was always with a book. When other children clung to blankies, dolls, and action figures, Hermione carried novels.

By three, she was progressed to reading longer chapter books, and she was able to speak quite articulately. She was incredible, and her parents loved her. Yet, Hermione sometimes doubted their love. She was always listening for affection, but her parents rarely told her how incredible she was and nearly never said "I love you." Her mother remained stern, and her Father grew more and more distant as his dental workload increased. Hermione purely went on self-faith and hope. She counted on them loving her, even when they didn't say it. Hermione became independent, but at a great emotional loss.

**HGHGHGHG**

Hermione, now seven years old, sat by the road outside of her house. She watched the children bike down the street and away from her and yearned to be like them, if even for a moment. But she couldn't possibly be, her memories made sure of that. Not only was she a bookworm, but she was a bizarre bookworm. She said things that might frighten the other children or that they couldn't understand; the teachers simply called her articulate for her age, but Hermione just felt different, like a person trapped in a body too young for their mind. So desperate to act her age and be accepted, Hermione tried to act normal.

She couldn't ride a bike yet, but she watched as everyone else did. It was high time she ride with them. Gazing down the street, she looked on as the neighborhood gang of kids slowly pedaled their way down the block, finally turning a corner, rolling out of sight. Not being able to bike like them was just one more thing they could ridicule her for, one more thing that made her odd, and Hermione did not want to be odd. She desperately wanted to be able to bike like them, to prove all of their jeers wrong.

A few months ago, Hermione had asked her parents to help her learn. After a few weeks of nagging with no response whatsoever, Hermione went for more obvious modes of coercion. She began to sit outside by her bike, reading, hoping her parents would teach her. Or during dinner, she would talk about how everyone was biking nowadays. Yet no matter how much Hermione struggled to be noticed, to be taught, her parents never took the time out to teach her. So Hermione did the only thing she could do: she began to teach herself.

It was a warm, muggy weekend and her mother was inside, busy cooking in the kitchen, while Hermione's father worked overtime. Left to her own devices, Hermione resolutely came to the conclusion that it was high time to begin to ride her bike. After much deliberation, she decided riding a bike was an important skill in life, or at least to have in case of an emergency. Besides, now that her parents weren't helping her, learning to ride a bike meant that she would be able to use wandless magic.

_I know I can't hold the bike up myself_, thought Hermione,_ maybe it's time I use some magic to help. A simple balancing spell should work well._

Hermione mounted the bike and thought, _Pondera balans_. Instantly, the spell took hold. The bike jerked to the upright position, almost throwing Hermione off of it.

_A bit too much power, I guess. I'll have to work on that_, _but on the bright side, I'll have a power none of my classmates at Hogwarts will have_, she thought haughtily. She began to pedal and felt herself sway a bit from side to side. _And I'll have to work on balancing myself independently of my magic. _The bike wavered.

_I can't take off the spell now, though. No, not yet. I definitely need some practice placing my body weight_. She picked up speed, soon rounding her block, enjoying the sensation of the wind blowing through her thick hair and tickling her scalp. Caught up in the moment, Hermione's mind journeyed away from the bike, and she lost focus.

She crashed to the ground, her knees scraping across the pavement. She threw her arms out to brace herself, but only scraped her elbows without stopping her fall. She felt pain and she saw blood. Her magic had failed her. She began to cry.

"Mom!" she called out. She hoped her mother could here her through the open kitchen window. There was no response. She saw blood begin to stream down her arms.

"Mom!" she cried out desperately. Still nothing. Time to try something new. "Beth Granger! I'm hurt!" She heard something rustle and the patter of feet. A door slammed.

_Finally_, thought Hermione. She saw her mother running across their green front lawn, her apron waving wildly and her hair flowing behind her.

"Mum, I was trying to ride my bike and I sort of…"

"I know very well what you were trying to do," replied Beth sternly. "But I never thought you'd be so precocious to go riding around the neighborhood like that. Really, you should have known better and waited for your father and me to help you. We said we would, didn't we?"

"Yes mum, you did, but…"

"No "buts" young lady," Beth interrupted.

"But,"

"What did I just say?"

"No buts…"

"That's right. Now let's get you inside and cleaned up. I'm sure your father will be none to happy with you."

"Mum!"

"Shush," said Beth. Hermione just knew this meant something bad. Her father would probably punish her at this rate. She sighed.

_Well_, she thought bitterly. _It could be worse. It could be raining._ And wouldn't luck have it that the skies opened up and rain began to freely fall that instant. She felt her knees begin to burn. She looked down to see blood mixing with water, running freely down her leg.

_Is fate playing with me_? she asked herself. Of course, she didn't even think that it could be the Laws toying with her at this most inopportune moment.

**HGHGHGHG**

Even though Hermione was smart, her mother expected her to be the best. Being the best was always better than Hermione, so her mother always expected more. In a way, Hermione's mother ensured Hermione was driven. Life was hard, but it was Hermione's childhood. Her parents worked while she read and learned. They loved her so much, but it became tough love. Love that Hermione sometimes didn't know was really there. She just hoped it was and continued to read.

The years passed by, but Hermione's memories remained crisp in her young mind. School was tough as ever. She was constantly ridiculed, and her true waiting began. She sat in class, outshining everyone else, garnering jealously and insults. She was a pariah, misunderstood by the other kids, an impossibility in their mind, something better off ignored. And how could she be normal when she had memories they couldn't even dream of?

So alone, Hermione waited. A reject, she waited friendless, as elementary school cliques formed. She waited, with only a stack of books and a mother who expected too much to accompany her. And in the end, her mother didn't understand her bizarre child.

Living in the suburbs in a quaint house, Hermione was expected to be socially normal. When she didn't make friends, her parents simply encouraged her to be more amiable. When that didn't work, her mother was disappointed in her daughters social incapability. Hermione came home without friends, so in some aspect, she had failed. Her mother would not let her forget this, which made small Hermione sad. But she knew hope because she remembered. She knew change would come. She would just have to wait.

She had no contact with the world she was soon to enter. She lived in partial ignorance, which was excruciating for a girl who thrived on knowledge. Her friends came to her in isolated places, in the downtrodden, in her books, and in herself. Waiting became easier as the years went by, but life was just as hard. So smart, Hermione was pushed ahead by a grade and rarely talked to anyone. She was only more of an oddity, one pointed at, whispered about, laughed at, but never talked to. Without her memories, Hermione would have at least been closer to normal. But she knew one thing, one glorious fact: joy awaiting her in the future, didn't it?

When she was eight, she finally came up with a plan that would give her a friend. It all started when Hermione received an unexpected visitor.

**HGHGHGHG**

Hermione sat on a branch on the tree in her backyard. Twenty feet up in the air with her back against the trunk, Hermione had a great view of all that happened below, as well as a barrier of leaves to shield her from the crisp autumn wind. Content with her surroundings, Hermione savored her reading, drinking every drop of text and continuing to ask for more, eagerly turning the page to see what happened next. However, she could only continue for so long.

Without warning, the leaves to the side of her started to rustle, as though something was coming through the foliage. Hermione snapped her book shut and shifted her body weight to examine the leaves.

POP!

A white ball popped out. Hermione jumped in surprise, almost falling. She clung to the branch above in desperation, situating herself appropriately and trying to figure out what the white ball was. Then she saw the resemblance; it looked like a younger a Hedwig. Those smart eyes, the snowy white feathers and that haughty beak… Hermione felt her heart twinge for a moment, remembering all too well that Hedwig she knew had been an early victim to Death Eaters.

"Hedwig? Is that you?" Hermione asked, a bit sad. The owl tilted its head to the side for a moment, as though contemplating the question. Then the white owl nodded. The motion was almost imperceptible, but Hermione was positive it was nod. From that motion, Hermione reasoned that either it was happy with the name, or the owl recognized the name.

_Well, _Hermione thought, _Hedwig was quite intelligent and looked exactly like this bird. I'd be willing to bet it's her, just before Harry got her. It's a bit of a surprise to see her again after so many years, after hearing about her death, but I guess it'll be the first of many times I'll be seeing lost friends._

"Why'd you come here girl?" asked Hermione. Hedwig's eyes widened reproachfully.

"Oh, that's right, you can't respond to something open ended, can you? Hmmm, well, did you come for me?" Hedwig's hazel eyes narrowed and she ruffled her feathers.

"That must be a negative," thought Hermione aloud. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out any reason why Hedwig would have flown to her house. It made no sense whatsoever.

_I guess since these are such extraordinary circumstances, I'll have to think outside of the cauldron. If there were someone playing with fate, who would it be?_ She asked herself. Then it clicked.

_The Laws! They must have led her here. But how? They can't tell anyone their destiny? They can help in very small ways, but this is a bit direct. Oh well, I'll just have to accept not knowing. For now. I'm certain I'll figure it out later, _Hermione thought in frustration.

"So you're here… but not to see me," Hedwig looked at her, eyes unchanging.

"Well…erm… I could send you to Harry. Yes! That's right I could send you to Harry! But he'd wouldn't know what to think of you. He'd have no idea why you were there, and if you tried to stay with him, he might not know what to do. Well, it doesn't look like you can see him, it just wouldn't work out very well! I guess you're stuck here with me," rushed Hermione. Hedwig looked over at her from above, jumped down, and nipped her hand.

"Ow! What was that for?" Hermione asked, rubbing the back of her hand. Hedwig's head turned away. "You won't accept no for an answer, huh? But I have no idea what to do! I'd need to see him before I could even contemplate sending you, Hedwig. And I don't think I'm going to be able to just take out a broom and fly, and I am certainly _not_ Apparating at age eight! I'm not applying for a Portkey, either. I'd probably get laughed at by the Ministry for that one." Hedwig nipped her.

"I'm all out of ideas! Nip me all you want, but I can't do anything." Hedwig looked at her, narrowed her eyes, and bit Hermione. Hard.

"Look at that, I'm bleeding! Why, now I'm frustrated! And I have nowhere to go. My parents won't be home from work for another hour," said Hermione. Hedwig's head tilted again.

"What did I say? I did something right? Hmmm, let me think…" said Hermione. She spent a moment, going over her words, trying to find meanings.

"The best I can come up with is being stranded, or having nowhere to go," said Hermione. Hedwig's head tilted to the other side.

"That's right, then! Hmmm. 'A witch whose stranded.' Oh! That was simple. The Knight Bus! I've taken it before, of course. But you need Wizarding money, don't you?" Hermione asked. Hedwig's beak opened, ready to bite her.

"Okay, I'll try! I'll try to the summon the Knight Bus and go see Harry so we can send you to see him. Fine. Happy?" Hedwig looked at her and then closed her eyes. She looked like she was preparing to roost for the rest of the afternoon.

"Is that your way of saying get going?" asked Hermione. She received a happy coo in response. "Fine, be a mental owl. See if I care. Really, the nerve! I'm doing you a favor, you know."

As Hermione went up to her room to get a jacket and some spare change, she began to laugh.

_I cannot believe I just had a full-fledged conversation with an owl. And now I'm going to see Harry! What a spur of the moment thing to do! I can't believe it. I must really be crazy. But it sounds like an adventure. And I am really desperate for change from this hum-drum life. _She ran back downstairs and ran out to the end of the cul-de-sac. Hermione took a deep breath and held out her right hand.

_Hope Mum doesn't get home before I get back. Last thing I need is to be punished for this. Why, this is taking quite a bit of time. I didn't think the Knight Bus would take this long to arrive. Last time I remember it coming quickly. But that was in another life, I guess. Am I doing it right? Is it supposed to be your wand hand you hold out, or your leg, or are you supposed to jump out in the road to get its attention? Oh gods, does this Knight bus even exist, or is a just a figment of my memories' imagination? I could just be going on a witch hunt with this one, I could. Is it worth trusting my memories so much? She I even be having this doubt? _

Before she could panic any further, Hermione heard a rumble down the road. A breeze swept the block, compromising her balance. She found herself on the ground, looking up at a young man with a crooked, yellow teeth and a beard in serious need of a trim.

"'Ello? Anyone there?" the young man asked. He leaned outside of the door of the bus and peered around for a little bit. "Really, now's ain't the time for a roun' of hide an' seek."

He looked down from the side of the bus. "Oi, what you doing down there?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm a bit new at this business," replied Hermione. She was. She had only been on the Knight Bus once before, and in her defense, it _was_ in another life.

"I'd say. How ol' are you? Can't be more than… ten. 'Ave you started 'Ogwarts yet?"

"Oh, no! I'm ten, like you said, but I haven't even received my letter yet!" said Hermione eagerly. She figured that if she was ten she'd more likely be allowed on the bus. She doubted anyone in their right mind would allow an eight year old on the bus unaccompanied, although this man seemed a bit out of the ordinary. Hermione wasn't about to test her luck, though.

"I dunno know if I should be lettin' you on the bus alone, lil' girl. Where's ya mum?"

"Oh…umm.. my parents are working. I just need a brief ride over to Little Whinging and back. It's a play date. My mum forgot about it," rushed Hermione. She was surprised she was coming up with such a good lie on the spot. "Please let me on? I don't want to miss it. It's with a really good friend of mine. I'll cry if I don't get to go!"

"Oi! Can't 'ave ya cryin', now. I'll let ya on. Jus' don' go makin' it a 'abit, kay? Hop on!" said the man.

"How much?"

"Oh, I don't think we charge anyone under eleven. Sort o' like child discount o' what not."

"Well, thank you then, Mr…?"

"Mr. Robert Shunpike. Pleased to be workin' for ya miss."

Hermione nodded and eagerly got on the bus. She scurried up the stairs and began to run for a seat. She turned around and began to sit, but before she was safely seated, the bus lurched forward and Hermione was sent flying forward. She hit the window full force. The bus turned and Hermione moved with it, flying across the aisle and into the other window. Before Hermione could come out of her daze, the bus jerked to a dead stop. Hermione hit the seat in front of her and let out a little gasp. She did not remember the bus ride being quite so violently turbulent. She felt like a bludger flying back and forth between beater's bats, which wasn't a pleasant feeling. It was quite nauseating, in fact.

Now that the bus was briefly stopped, apparently to let a little old lady in strange robes on, Hermione quickly grabbed a hold of her seat and pulled herself up. She braced herself between the window and the seat in front of her. And when the bus began to move again, she was content, remaining in the rickety wooden seat. A few stops latter, Hermione was in Little Whinging, a place she had only been in memories.

Off the bus and in the fresh outdoor air, Hermione felt the queasiness from the ride subside. She took a deep breath, held her jacket close to her body, and began to skip down the road. Hermione hoped she looked like a carefree little girl. At least, that was the look she was going for, since most people wouldn't really see that as out of the ordinary. Not to mention that it would distract them from her constant glances at the addresses lining the street. No, it was of utmost importance Hermione act eight and remain very inconspicuous.

After a good ten minutes of searching, Hermione finally found number four Privet Drive. It wasn't exactly where she expected it to be, but then again, the last time she had been there was at nighttime when she rescued Harry, in her memories, too. Now, left waiting in front of Harry's house, Hermione found herself with a conundrum. Either she could knock on the door and chance that she might see Harry in the house before she was shooed away, or she could try the neighborhood park and look for him there. Knowing the Dursleys, the latter was her best option. She just hoped they let the boy out for some air every now and then.

She searched the street for a park or an open area where the local kids could play. There wasn't anything in sight, only the neatly designed houses that all looked conspicuously alike. But before she could give up on the idea, Hermione heard laughter. Children's laughter. Lots of it. She began to skip down the street (she really did enjoy the little hop and the brief sensation of flying an inch above the Earth), and happened upon the source of the laughter: a small park. She felt excited. Harry could be there, playing, just waiting for her to happen upon him!

After looking around though, she saw no Harry. Forty minutes later, when she had to go home, she still hadn't seen him. Next time, she would bring a book to read so she didn't feel like she was wasting her time. She rode home, only to come back the next day. And the next. And the next five, actually. Each passing day brought more pecks from Hedwig and less hope that she would ever find Harry there. And then there was the bus ride, which with each day grew worse. Robert Shunpike began scowling at her, as though her story didn't make any sense. After all, how could a girl's mother forget a whole week's worth of play dates? Hermione felt herself blush more and more under his incisive glare. She was ready to quit. Or at least try a pointless knock at the Dursleys!

Sitting on the Knight Bus a week later, Hermione felt her soft brown eyes slowly fill with tears. She felt the water begin its descent down her flushed cheek. Hermione knew today would be her last visit. She couldn't take anymore of the stress, Hedwig or not. And she doubted Robert would allow on her on the bus after today. No, she had to see Harry today. She had to.

At the park, Hermione spent two hours reading _Treasure Island_, finding herself wrapped up in the pirate adventure. She yearned for change, for something more than her life right now. The book gave her a brief glimpse of her desire, one that she desperately held onto. But once she finished the last page, that glimpse was gone. And so was her chance to see Harry. Hermione slowly closed her book, and looked up at the overcast sky. She sighed.

_There went seeing the only friend I can have_, thought Hermione bitterly. _Now I'm all alone until Hogwarts, unless you count Mum. But who would count her? She never spends any time with me._ Hermione sat up, sobbing painfully. She wiped her cheek with the sleeve of her jacket.

_Last thing I need is to be yelled at for being late. Better go now_, _maybe I can come back again though… search the neighborhood, knock on the door, but it's probably all for naught…_ thought Hermione. She walked out of the park and began her quiet amble down the sidewalk. She was in no mood to be skipping today.

Despite the Sun peeking through the clouds overhead, Hermione's mood did not lift. She was depressed. But then Hermione heard his voice. Her tears stopped, and she looked up.

"Dudley this. Dudley that. At least I'm finally out of the house. I couldn't take anymore of him beating up on me," the young boy grumbled. Hermione whipped around to see who it was coming from. Fifteen feet behind her stood a small, scrawny boy with messy black hair. He wore oversized clothes that had the look of hand-me-downs. He was slightly hunched over, looking dreary. It was him. She saw Harry. Her best friend.

Hermione felt excitement overtake her body. Her blood felt like it was pulsating in her veins, her head felt light, and a wonderfully large smile was glued to her face. But this was their first meeting. If she ruined it, she might never speak to him again. She'd just have to try her best. She wouldn't be bossy or whiny. No, she'd just be Hermione. With a nervous gulp and the feeling of Hippogriffs flying around her stomach, Hermione spoke up.

"Hello?" she called out anxiously. She caught his attention. He looked up at her, his green eyes glinting in the light.

"Did you say hullo to me?" asked Harry curiously.

"I did actually."

"Why?"

"Because you're my age and um…"

"But don't you know I'm related to Dudley? If you're with me he'll know. He'll beat you up!"

"Oh. Well. I didn't know."

"Right. Well. Bye," said Harry. Hermione lost her chance. The lump in her throat grew to an enormous size. She could barely swallow. He turned away.

"No wait! That's not what I meant," she said. He looked back at her. "My name's Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"That's nice," he answered coldly.

"Don't push me away!" she cried out. Oh gods, she hoped she wasn't scaring him away. "This is where you tell me your name, in case you didn't know."

"Oh. I'm new at this," answered Harry honestly. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you, Harry Potter," giggled Hermione. She felt the lump in her throat subside. A little.

"So why'd you say hullo?" Harry asked. Hermione blushed.

"I thought you looked like a nice person. And to be truthful, I don't have a lot of friends. I thought it'd be nice, if you know, I could finally find a friend," she replied. Harry thought it over.

"I understand wanting friends. Dudley scares people away. I don't have any friends. Sowhere do you live?"

"Away from Surrey, I'm afraid. But on the bright side, that puts me outside of Dudley's reign of terror, doesn't it?" said Hermione happily.

"It does! He only beats up kids around the neighborhood. Not outsiders," replied Harry, his expression brightening. Hermione smiled.

"Sounds like I could be your friend then," she pointed out.

"Yeah! That never happens," he said, surprised. "I never talk to anyone. He always rolls in and scares them away."

"Rolls?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Well, he's big. Fat. He could roll if he wanted to. Like the blueberry girl in Willie Wonk! I haven't seen many movies..." Hermione laughed, glad to see he was happy to talk.

"It's a good movie to see though," said Hermione.

"Yep," said Harry. A comfortable silence fell for a few seconds. They smiled at each other.

"Everyone deserves a friend," stated Hermione. I know how lonely it can be without one. I read books to help get away from it. What do you do?"

"I read. No one talks to me. So I only have books."

"Sounds dreadful. The kids just make fun of me."

"No."

"Yeah. Call me a bookworm. But that's the least of it"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be! It's not like it's your fault. Still… I can't deny it's hard. It's another reason why I read and study. And I don't let those awful girls discourage me from doing well in school! It gives me pride to succeed."

"I wish was good at school," muttered Harry.

"Why?"

"I think I'm the smartest. But I can't be. Not with Dudley. If I do too well, he'll hurt me. He doesn't want me to do better than him. I live with him and his parents."

"Take my advice. You'll get satisfaction out of your success. You should try no matter what he does. Just practice avoidance. I do it with those awful girls. Doesn't always work, but it helps. I do get the satisfaction of being better than them, too. That helps loads," replied Hermione. "Oh my, I have to get home. My mum will be back from work soon!"

"Too bad," said Harry sadly. "I really never get to talk to anyone. It was nice talking to you. And I will try at school. You're right! It's something to do."

"You better. And it is too bad. You think we could be friends?" asked Hermione. Harry contemplated this for a moment.

"Yes," said Harry. "Dudley's too far away to hurt you."

"But that also means I'm too far away to see you," said Hermione glumly.

"Oh. I didn't think about that," replied Harry sadly.

"You think we could write? I have plenty of free time. It'd be cool to have a penpal," said Hermione.

"Right. But I can't receive mail. I think my Aunt and Uncle would be mad at me for receiving it."

"Oh," said Hermione. She avoided breaching the topic of family. "I have a bit of an unorthodox way of sending mail. I use a trained owl named Hedwig, she's sort of like a carrier pigeon. She works beautifully. I think you'd like her," gushed Hermione.

"Sounds weird," Harry replied. "And my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon don't like weird."

"What if they don't see her? I can tell her to meet you in your backyard or something."

"Maybe," replied Harry casually.

"Good. Now what's your address?"

"Number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging," he replied. Hermione pretended to write it down.

"Got it. I'll write you soon then?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah."

"Bye!"

"Bye," said Harry, putting his hands in his pockets and turning away.

As she turned away, a crazy thought overcame Hermione, a whim, something she had never before considered, but felt as though it were right. It felt right. Her memory briefly flashed back to Hogwarts.

"_So you wanted to know about permanent transfiguration, Ms. Granger?" said Professor McGonagall, her lips pursed ever so slightly._

"_Yes, Professor. Nothing we've done so far has been permanent. We've only done temporary transfigurations."_

"_For good reason! To make a transfiguration last forever takes a great deal of magical power! And they're irreversible; you could try changing the object back, but it will very likely never be the same."_

"_Oh…objects are nice, but I was wondering about people. Making a change on a person that would last forever."_

"_Why would this particular branch of transfiguration be so interesting?"_

"_For academic value…"_

"_Academic value? I know you too well for that to be the true answer. But very well—I will only mention this to you, Ms. Granger, because you have demonstrated a great deal of capability, more than any other student I have had the pleasure to teach in recent memory. I assure you, any other fifth year would be shooed out of my office. Now…there are many ways to do human transfiguration, but to be permanent… it is most advisable you follow the simplest spell to start. 'Vere ego ostendo extraneus,' will gradually change the person into who they are in on the inside… because the person's personality is already this way, a corresponding change in their appearance is much easier. Now, there are many ways this spell can take form. One can be a pure mirror of traits. Another could be whomever the person most takes after, he or she looks like. What's most important about this spell is you understand what you are casting and correctly envision it. From a shred of truth, what you envision will come to be…"_

If Hermione could execute this spell, then she could change so many things…

_Harry told me that Dumbledore said Harry was more like Lily than James. And I can't forget that Snape loved Lily, loved her so much that he never stopped loving her, even until his death. Just as he never stopped hating James… Well, I'll give Snape something to love. I'll change destiny with this I will…_thought Hermione.

Without any further deliberation, Hermione jumped into action, raising her hand towards Harry, and focusing with all of her might.

_Vere ego ostendo extraneus,_ she thought, and she watched as a mild pink swirl swam away from her hand and hit Harry in the back. An immediate wave of exhaustion crashed over Hermione, making her feel physically tired. She drowsily looked up to see him continue to walk away, not bothering to notice the spell that had hit him.

Hermione watched as Harry changed, just slightly, from what he had looked like before. From a distance, his hair had already lightened just a bit and his skin began to pale somewhat. It wasn't much, but it was a start. However, Hermione was sure that in the coming years, he would change even more.

She felt bad leaving him, and felt bad casting that spell on him, but she knew it'd be hard to keep coming back and forth between her houseand Harry's house, Knight Bus or no Knight Bus. And she felt that she had done the right thing.

If she ever wanted to come back to see him, there would be the complication of Dudley, who would probably have no problem hitting a girl. Their set-up was probably for the best. Destiny stated that Hedwig and Harry would hit it off, and Hermione took solace from that. Still, she couldn't help but wonder what Harry would come to look like; she would have to wait to see Harry again until Hogwarts.

**HGHGHGHG**

A white owl sat in a cage in pet shop in Diagon Alley. She was a smart bird, but sometimes smart wasn't good enough to get you bought. She had been there for over a year and still, no one bought her. That could have been because she nipped at all of her potential buyers because, well, they were all below her, or because she was in the back corner by the creepy spiders and snakes. But still, no owl liked being cooped up in a cage for so long. That was why when her cage was accidentally left open, the owl who would be called Hedwig made an escape.

_Finally, my chance to leave this feathery heap of junk. I can't believe I've been stuck here so long. Well no more! I'm out of here. I'll go wherever the winds will take me. Anywhere but here,_ thought Hedwig excitedly, flying out of the shop. The pedestrians in the Alley noticed the white, fluffy ball flying overhead, but thought nothing of it. They thought it was an ordinary postal owl. However, the owner of the pet shop was out of fifteen galleons. He just didn't know it until four days after Hedwig found her freedom.

Out in the open world, Hedwig did quite a bit of exploring. She spent a good week vacationing over the ocean before heading to the woods for a bit of feast. A good five days later she began a search that lasted for a month. She began to search for a home. Trained as a postal owl, she looked for a wizard, keying in on magical auras. She tried to find one that suited her, but couldn't. She was left with her second best choice, which really wasn't good enough.

On a brisk autumn day, Hedwig flew over a nice big house and picked up the magical residue.

_It's a start, I guess. Better head in for a landing._ Hedwig began circling downward towards a Muggle household with a large tree in the backyard. In a moment, she dove through the leaves and landed on a knobby branch. She peered downward to see a little girl, fighting to stay in the tree. _Oh dear, she looks like quite a little project._

_She's talking to me, which is a bit of a change. It's been a while, but I can understand her,_ thought Hedwig. _I'm in the mood for a bit of nipping though, beak's a bit rusty from disuse. Silly girl, I don't want to stay with you—that's better—no, I won't accept no for an answer, you're finding me my master, I can't seem to find him myself—where there's a Hedwig, there's a way, little girl,_ thought Hedwig. _I do like the name she's given me, but dear me, poor girl doesn't no what's she's doing. Making me doing the directing. Hmph! Yes, that's a good girl, you better get going. I'm not staying here for long. This tree's a dump. _And with that thought, Hedwig went to sleep.

She was quite astonished to find when she woke up that Hermione was sitting there, looking quite sad.

_That must have meant the girl failed,_ thought Hedwig tiredly. _Bitter spur her onward!_ And she nipped Hermione. This continued for the remainder of the week, Hedwig's nips growing in intensity and Hermione's mood deepening in sorrow.

Sitting awake in the tree on that particularly overcast day, Hedwig begin to think things over.

_I hope the girl's finding a bit of success. I'm feeling a bit bad biting her all the time, but she does need the encouragement. If she won't get up and go find me my real owner, I'll have to make up for her. But—still—she looks sad. Maybe I'll lay off of her today. She really deserves some time off. She's tried hard…_

Hedwig pulled in her neck and felt her eyes slowly close. She embraced sleep and warmly delved her way into a dream of a chase of a particularly elusive gnome. Right as the white snowy owl swooped down to catch the giggling potato-like creature, Hedwig was awoken by the arrival of a gleeful Hermione.

_Now she chooses to come see me,_ thought Hedwig grumpily. She ruffled her feathers and turned away for a moment. _Thinks she can barge in at any moment, interrupting people's –er—owl's dreams. Well, she's got something coming to her. _Hedwig turned back around and opened her mouth, preparing for the mother of all bites.

"I've saw Harry today!" Hermione told Hedwig happily. "I can send you to him tonight! But you must not be seen by his Aunt and Uncle…" Hedwig hooted happily

_Finally—success! I can finally leave this sad looking tree and head away_. Hedwig held out her leg expectantly, and Hermione looked down.

"Oh—er—I just got back Hedwig, I haven't gotten a chance to write a letter," confessed Hermione. Hedwig's feathers ruffled. Her beak opened. "I'll go write one now, then?" Hermione climbed down the tree, leaving Hedwig to her own devices. And if Hermione didn't know any better, she would have thought Hedwig's happy hoots were giggles.

Settling down, Hedwig waited for a bit and flew up to the upstairs window to overlook the writing of letter. With a stern gaze, Hedwig watched from the windowsill as Hermione quickly scribbled her pen across a page. She looked up to see Hedwig, who turned her head menacingly. Hermione gulped and wrote faster.

_That's a good girl, write the letter so I can get going. I'll be able to see someone who finally gets me. It's been too long, really,_ thought Hedwig. She pecked at the window, and Hermione with a flourish of her pen, folded her letter and placed it in an addressed envelope. She opened the window.

"I'll be seeing you soon then?" asked Hermione casually as she tied the letter to Hedwig's outstretched leg. Hedwig gave a reluctant hoot.

"I'll be looking forward to it, then," said Hermione happily. Hedwig looked up at her with wide eyes, and took off.

_Oh, the feeling of wind beneath my wings! Roaring through my feathers. I guess I might as well stop somewhere to get a bite to eat while I'm out,_ thought Hedwig hungrily as she flew over a meadow. _Doubtful I'll find any gnomes out her in Muggle central, which is really a pity. Rats and frogs just don't have the same tender consistency of the gnome. Of course, gnomes are hard to catch, but definitely worth the extra effort,_ thought Hedwig appraisingly as she swooped down to scurrying rat. In a flash, she opened her beak and had the rat hanging by his neck. Clutching him in her beak, she rose back up in the air and soared onward.

_Silly little vermin never knew what him, by the look on his face,_ thought Hedwig, giggling inwardly. After a nice flight, she found herself in the Northern part of the English isle, looking down at an expanse of identical dwellings.

_Pitiful houses. Not nearly natural enough. They look so ugly. Hmph! I'm sure those humans think they're pristine, but they're just an excuse to cover up good hunting land!_ Hedwig began circling one particularly normal looking house, slowly descending into a small maple in the backyard. She sat there and began to eat her catch while she waited.

_I know I'm anxious to see the child who lives here—that other girl, who bless her heart, tried to find me a master thought that he was good—hope he is._ Hedwig swallowed part of the meat. _Oh look, here comes someone now…_ Hedwig nestled her catch in the branch and swooped out to investigate. To her surprise, the child was only a few feet away. She overestimated her momentum and had to turn back. She landed gracefully on the child's shoulder and examined him, tilting her head to the side.

_Tsk, tsk, the poor child looks undernourished! I must get after the humans that look after him, this is a disgrace. And his clothing. He must really need someone to look after him_… _I'm certainly up for the job though, if he's decent enough that is_, thought Hedwig as she looked at Harry Potter.

"Well hello, you must be Hermione's owl, Hedwig! You really are well trained, aren't you?" Hedwig practically blushed at the compliment, lifting her wing to cover her face shyly. She liked this boy already.

"You are Hermione's aren't you?" Hedwig stared back at him, her leg stretched out with the letter.

"Oh, should I read the letter then?" he asked her. She continued to stare. "Guess that's a yes…" He carefully removed the letter and scanned it.

"Hermione says that she hopes you can spend most of your time here… that it would be good for me to have a friend with me," said Harry monotonously. Hedwig tilted her head curiously, eager to find out what his reaction would be.

"That's just too nice of her—but it would be nice to have someone here with me," muttered Harry. Hedwig almost swooned. She scooted over on Harry's and rubbed her soft feathers against his warm cheek.

"I guess you won't take no for an answer, huh girl?" asked Harry happily. Hedwig looked at him in a very no-nonsense manner. He laughed.

"Sounds great. I just can't believe she'd do that… but where will I keep you?" Harry murmured. Hedwig rose up from his shoulder and began to fly.

"You don't mind staying outdoors?"

She carefully landed back on his shoulder. He grinned.

"Okay… if you're sure, and if Hermione's sure. I'd be glad to keep you. Everyone else around here just ignores me, or worse, treats me like a horrible person." Hedwig's beak opened and snapped shut menacingly.

"Oh no, you're not going to bite them," warned Harry. "Last thing I want is them to chase you away. No, you're going to have to stay secret. If they knew I had something that made me happy…" Harry shivered. Hedwig ruffled her feathers for a bit and looked fit to be tied.

Their conversation continued for a bit (and became surprisingly wide in scope), until Aunt Petunia came out looking for Harry, forcing Hedwig to fly away. Even though Hedwig lived in hiding for quite some time, that day began a great friendship between Harry and Hermione, and a beautiful relationship for Hedwig and Harry. And the events they all went through together, they alone knew. And how could they not become friends after the Law's meddling?

**HGHGHGHG**

_A sixteen year-old Hermione Granger sat underneath a tree by the lake at Hogwarts, gazing at the Giant Squid lazily skimming about the surface of the water. She basked in the warmth from the sun, a gift she had not been given very often in the past year. But then, someone blocked all light._

"_Luna?" _

"_You better watch out… during the summer, Gnargles migrate away from mistletoe to oak trees like this one. I do believe that rustling is their preparation to ambush you," she said dreamily. A good of an answer, as any, Hermione knew._

"_What brings you out here?" inquired Hermione._

"_You know the Heliopaths the ministry was researching last year?" asked Luna. Hermione nodded, although she had no idea what Luna was talking about. "Well, they've escaped to Hogwarts! They chased me right out of charms, past the Great Hall, and towards the water."_

"_Oh, what—erm—do these Heliopaths do?"_

"_They're not that harmful alone you see, but together with the Infernabees of Alterna they create quite the blaze…One starts the fire, the other expands it. It's quite interesting, really," replied Luna airily, sitting down by Hermione._

"_You certainly know your creatures," complimented Hermione. Luna smiled. "Anything you want to talk about in particular?" Hermione had a hunch that Luna wanted to talk. She looked… lonely for some reason. More aloof than usual._

"_Sometimes I miss my mother. I don't know if I ever told you…" Luna replied, oddly direct in her response._

"_Harry did," interrupted Hermione. "She died from a charms accident when you were nine?"_

"_Yes—she was experimenting on a charm to magnify magical strength. She came close to a breakthrough, but sadly, the breakthrough led to the loss of her magic and her life force," said Luna sadly._

"_Oh!"_

"_It was quite depressing. The spell had the opposite effect on her, draining her magic. She thought it was just building magic to create an exponential growth later… she waiting for her magic to grow back, but it never did. When she uttered the countercharm, it killed her. I saw her die," said Luna._

"_Oh Luna, no one deserves to ever see their mother die…"_

"_It's okay though. I suppose the Alberneyes wanted me to see it… they hide until they can force people to watch horrible events… but you know, I feel like if someone had said something, those Alberneyes would have stayed away…"_

_Hermione wanted to say something, to battle Luna's regret, but she couldn't put her feelings into words. She felt utterly helpless, unable to give Luna the support she needed. So Hermione did the only thing she could do: she sat next to Luna and put her arm around her. Hermione watched as a tear silently flowed down Luna's cheek…_

Hermione slipped back out of her daydream, away from the memory of Luna Lovegood. Sitting her room, peering up at the peach ceiling from her bed, Hermione wondered. She knew she couldn't do anything about Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black, not yet anyways. Any action by her now would lead to innumerable questions, none of which Hermione desired to answer. She had tried her best to help Harry, even though she couldn't get him away from the Dursleys. As for Neville, if Hermione showed up on some arbitrary day for no reason, she knew more questions would be thrown at her. After all, she was a Muggleborn who should have no idea of her magical powers yet.

However, one of her friends would, or rather, _should_, be approachable. Luna Lovegood had always been a little off, and Hermione knew she wouldn't be too surprised by the arrival of the unexpected. No, Luna wouldn't ask questions, she was open to something that was out of the ordinary. Hermione wasn't ready to answer questions when she showed up on Luna's doorstep, and she doubted she would have to. Luna would most likely momentarily postpone any questions she had, using a creature for explanation. That was good enough for Hermione; she would have to warn Luna about her mother's upcoming accident. Again, Hermione felt like informing Luna was the right thing to do. It just felt so easy to decide upon; there was no option involved really. Hermione was going and that was that.

One day though, she would tell someone about her memories, about the burden on her shoulders. For now though, a ride on the Knight Bus (another play date, Hermione reasoned) to Ottery St. Catchpole would do. She was off to see Luna.

**HGHGHGHG**

The large, circular stone house in front of her was just as strange as Hermione remembered it. However, the yard didn't seem to be nearly as dead looking as before. Instead, tall grasses flourished in between twisted trees and bushes, which surprisingly, looked as though they were thriving as well. Everything looked large, out of the ordinary. Walking up the pathway, Hermione felt as though there was a sort of life about this place that not many other houses had. When she reached the door, she saw something she had not seen before: an old, ornamental knocker adorned the door. Deciding she should use it, Hermione banged it loudly three times.

"What is your business here," said a deep, manly voice Hermione had never heard before.

"Umm…who is there?" she asked nervously.

"Look down and answer the question," said the petulant voice. Hermione's gaze turned downward and she saw the intricate stone knocker look up at her.

_But knockers don't look at people, do they?_ Hermione asked herself. But this was the Lovegoods, and things were anything but ordinary…

"Are you…?"

"Yes girl, I am the voice. Now please, what is your business here? If you don't answer, I'll have to banish you from the premises," snapped the voice.

"Hermione Granger here to visit Luna Lovegood for a play date," she replied nervously. The knocker grimaced and looked as though it were thinking. It took a while to respond.

"Story checks out… Luna says she was expecting someone to show up… she'll be down in a minute…" said the knocker. Hermione watched as it closed its eyes and froze back into place, just as it had been before she had come.

_It's a bit strange that Luna was expecting me, but for all I know, it could just be Luna's way of saying anyone's welcome…_ pondered Hermione. She turned away from the door for a moment and gazed at the tall grasses in the front yard and looked towards a particularly gnarled looking tree. Hermione swore she saw movement—it looked like something with a mane of fire sleeked around that trunk, but as soon as Hermione thought she saw the creature, it vanished.

_I must be imagining things. I didn't get too much sleep last night_, thought Hermione, stifling a yawn and rubbing her eyes.

"Hello!" said a perky, young voice.

"Luna Lovegood?" asked Hermione. She wondered how Luna had got outside without her hearing the door open or close.

"Hmmm, seen any heliopaths?" asked Luna interestedly. Hermione's eyes widened considerably. "I have a feeling they're migrating South for the winter. I've seen them moving through our yard before, not uncommon," she added, looking eagerly at the yard.

"Ummm, well, maybe," replied Hermione, not believing what she was saying.

"Oh great! I'll have to come out later. Maybe I can catch a glance!" replied Luna excitedly. "So, Hermione Granger… did the Heliopaths drive you here on their journey South? They're nasty creatures, wouldn't be surprised if they did."

"Oh, no, I just came by to say hi, and to well, give you a warning," said Hermione nervously. She bit one of her nails while she watched Luna's blank gaze.

"Really? A warning? Alberneyes coming my way?" she asked dreamily.

"Yes, actually," replied Hermione. She really couldn't believe what she was saying, but she continued on. "You see… your mother is in danger. Her experiment with increased magical strength is not going as planned and she'll end up dead if she's not careful," said Hermione.

"Oh," replied Luna. "Are-are you sure," she stammered. Hermione had never heard Luna stutter before, and it was a bit unsettling. Luna seemed a bit apprehensive, a bit angry, it was so surreal. "That doesn't sound like something Alberneyes would cause…"

"It is though," said Hermione firmly. "And I'm sure. Please, warn your mother for me. I don't want to you to lose your mum." Whatever anger Luna had disappeared, her eyes becoming serenely silver. Her eyebrows, however, still gave her a look of permanent surprise, which Hermione was now used to.

"Thank you then," said Luna, slowly running her hang through her long blonde hair. "I'll be sure to keep an eye out for the Alberneyes, then. Would you like to stay for a while? Come inside?"

"Oh—I have to be getting home soon. I feel rude leaving so quickly. Do you mind?"

"Not at all... Oooh, I think I saw a Heliopath," said Luna.

"Really?" asked Hermione incredulously.

"Yes, there it went, back into the grasses! They look like a man crawling along the ground, followed by a mane of furious fire. Delicious," she replied. Hermione gulped. That was exactly what it had appeared to her as.

"I should be off! My parents are expecting me…"

"Certainly. I'll see you at Hogwarts, then?" asked Luna dreamily. But before, Hermione could answer, Luna skipped off into the grasses, laughing.

Walking back the street in Ottery St. Catchpole, Hermione couldn't help but feel it was a bad sign that she was beginning to understand Loony Lovegood.

**HGHGHGHG**

It was a fairly ordinary Wednesday in June at the local school. Outside, the sky was overcast and the forecast called for rain. Inside the schools walls, the kids were the least bit deterred by the dreary weather. They sat, eating their lunch, merrily chattering away. Hermione, however, was silent. The eleven year-old girl sat in the corner of the bright white lunch room, minding her own business. Her nose was stuck in a book, and her hand dug through a simple chrome lunchbox. Without looking, her hand felt its way around to her sandwich, grabbed onto the bread, pulled it back to her hidden mouth, and she began to eat. Quietly, of course, trying not to attract attention. Even so much as a loud bite from her would make the other girls snicker. No, she tried to avoid them as much as she could. For a brief time, she thought she was doing a good job of it. Her sandwich tasted good, her book was reaching climax, and she felt great. Too bad for Hermione keeping to yourself is never accepted at her age. No, the kids always came.

"Granger!" yelled one. "Come over and sit with us!"

"No thanks, Emily," said Hermione, turning the popular blonde girl down. "I'm happy just reading my book, thank you!"

"Oh no, but I insist!" Emily said. The small blonde strode over, her pigtails bouncing, and she grabbed Hermione.

"You better come with me. We need some entertainment at lunch today," whispered Emily cruelly. Hermione had no choice at this point. Emily dragged Hermione to the popular table and plopped Hermione down across from her. Hermione sat there for a few minutes, silently eating her sandwich, before anyone addressed her.

"So, Hermione, you never told us how your weekend went?" asked one of the girls at the table.

"It was a normal weekend I guess," said Hermione, weary of the trap they set for her. She opened her packet of crisps and ate them.

"Did you have a lot of fun?" another asked.

"I suppose. As much fun as an eleven-year-old can I have, I guess," said Hermione. For once, her conversation seemed to be going smoothly.

"Oh, did you have a lot of friends over?" asked Emily. The girl was a social genius. She knew just how to expose everyone's insecurities, and she constantly abused the power for her benefit.

"No, I really didn't have that many friends over," said Hermione.

"Wait," said Emily, giggling for a moment. "Did you have anyone over?"

"Yes," blushed Hermione. But Emily wasn't convinced.

"Oh really? Who?" asked Emily. All of the girls at the table looked Hermione. They seemed really interested. A bit too interested.

"People," said Hermione.

"Who though?" prodded Emily. Emily gasped. "You must not have had anyone over!"

"That's not true!" cried out Hermione. "My parents were there!"

"Does that even count?" asked one of the girls, sounding sincere in her question.

"No, it doesn't! What about the weekend before, or the one before that? Have you had any social interaction then either?" asked Emily, with an evil glint in her eye.

"Not exactly…"

"Oh, well. I guess you know what they say, brains over brawn. But wait, you don't have brawn… Hmmm, I guess you've just chosen brains over having a life," said Emily. The girls around her giggled. A tear slipped out of Hermione's eyes.

"I do too have a life!"

"Well, hmmm, I don't know. People who have lives have friends. People who have lives look half decent without a bush for hair. An ugly bush at that, I'd say. And people who have lives have teeth that aren't beaver-like. People who have lives look like people. You don't," Emily said, shaking her pigtails. The girls at the table laughed.

"At least I have moral fiber!" said Hermione, crying and running from the room.

"Like that gives someone a life," said one of the girls. Emily agreed with her, laughing hard.

So many people laughing at her, not even considering her a person. She just had to cry, there was no other response to the taunting. Out of the lunchroom and out of the cruel popular girls' grasp, Hermione ran to the bathroom and sobbed. She desperately wanted revenge on the girls, who more than deserved it in her mind. She stopped crying and began to list the ways that she could make them suffer for all the pain they were putting her through. She had always wanted to use a Bat Boogey Hex on someone. Ginny made it look like so much _fun_. Without a wand to focus the spell, she could probably somehow manage an area effect, getting all of the girls. Or she could use a notice-me-not spell and avoid them altogether…

Shaking her head, as though ridding herself of these thoughts, Hermione stopped herself. Thinking of revenge certainly sounded great, and the feeling of vindication was like none other, but she couldn't bring herself to break so many laws. She was already using magic outside of school, which went against her conscience, and using magic on or around so many Muggles would be dreadful. She might feel great in the short-term, but guilt would soon set in. Besides, breaking the law really wasn't her style, most of the time.

She sighed and contemplated just avoiding it all by going home early. Yet even that would make her feel bad. She had to go back and face those awful girls. Sure, they giggled, pointed and jeered. Sure, their laughter was suffocating on the bus ride home. But Hermione stood up to those girls. She might have only been an eleven-year old, but Hermione knew. She knew she was the better person.

When Hermione got home, she cried. She knew she'd soon make friends, but right now, she had none. So she talked to the only one there to talk to, her mother. She ran downstairs crying and found her mother cooking in the kitchen.

"Mum," cried Hermione, sobbing pretty hard.

"What is it now Hermione? Were the girls are school mean to you again? I thought I told you to stand up to them!" her mum chided.

"I did! But those girls were positively awful. They invited me over to sit with them, and even though I was being sociable, they shut me out of conversation and insulted me. Repeatedly. Then laughed like it was funny. They treated me like a toy, like I wasn't even human. It just hurt. And what can I do in response? Punch them? That isn't right…" sobbed Hermione. Her mother looked over at her. For a second, it looked like she would yell at Hermione, but her stern face softened.

"No, hitting them wouldn't solve anything. But I know I've taught you how to stand up for yourself. I've taught you better than this."

"Oh mum, I do try, can't you tell?" she cried.

"I can tell. But trying isn't good enough, young lady."

"I avoid them, then they treat me like a toy. I don't like being a toy! I'm just some outcast they can use and play with! I'm too different to fit in! It's like I'm not even a person!"

"Do you believe them?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione sobbed.

"Do you consider yourself a person? Do you feel like a person at all?"

"I-I do-don't know sometimes. Sometimes I feel so alone. Like all I have are my books. You know what they say "You are who you walk with," or something like that. That makes me about as good as a book. They're the only things I've got, no one else seems to understand me," cried Hermione. She wasn't about to reveal her connection to Harry or Hedwig, not now, not here…

"Oh, you should never feel that way dear. You're not a book. And you know what? You're my girl and I love you so much. You've got me."

"But even you ignore me! The one person with whom I have contact, who talks to me, and all you do is expect more out of me. I can't do any more. I'm trying, but all that I get is rejection," said Hermione, sobbing.

"I don't give you rejection. I'm just trying to do what's best for you. I'm trying to give you the support I never had."  
"You have an odd way of showing your love. All you do is push, push, push. I try to live up to expectations, but I can't! I can't even muster up friends!" Hermione ran up the stairs to her room, slamming the door behind her for dramatic effect. She was angry at her mom for expecting so much, angry for not being able to fit in because she was so different mentally, angry for her future not coming here already!

**HGHGHGHG**

Knowing there was a problem, her mother worked on her relationship with her daughter. The school year came to an end and the summer progressed, the family grew closer. Hermione found herself eating dinner more and more often with her parents, and she'd also began consulting with her mother more, too. There was yelling, fighting, and even some pushing, but Hermione felt like her family was there. For the first time since she was a baby, she felt a sense of belonging.

At age eleven, Hermione Granger had a future. After all, she was only at the beginning. Yet, for eleven, she was a strong young woman. With harsh memories only some adults know, Hermione was seasoned. She was not ignorant of the horrors of the world. And she experienced forced independence that only made her stronger. In other words, her childhood served to make her a tough witch.

A week ago she had received her Hogwarts Letter. A large, prestigious looking brown owl flew in and dropped off a prim, white letter stamped with a red wax Hogwarts insignia. Hermione practically exploded she was so excited. She couldn't help but run downstairs to her parents and explain the news. They read over the letter, a bit bewildered and sent back a letter asking for confirmation, an exclusive Muggleborn service to help ease the transition into the magical world. (That is: prove magic existed) Although progress had weaved its way into Hermione's filial relationships, she couldn't help but feel the foundation for a wall was laid between them the instant they realized she was magical. At this point in time, her identity shifted in a way they couldn't understand. But Hermione wouldn't lose them, she would make them understand if she had to.

Throughout all of this time, the one friend Hermione truly had was Harry. She had not seen even a picture of him since she last saw him, but simply hearing his voice through letter correspondence was enough. For both of them, these letters became their lifeline, something they both came to depend on. Ever since Hermione met Harry three years ago, they had been in constant contact, with letters flying in and out of windows and trees at least weekly, if not daily. However, sometimes, Harry went excruciatingly long between writing letters, which Hermione came to know as periods of "cupboard" punishment, were Harry was locked away beneath the stairs, unable to see the full light of day.

The past two weeks had been a quite extraordinarily long "cupboard" time, which must have meant something bad happened to Harry (Harry didn't usually do anything bad on purpose, but he did get blamed for things). Hermione began to worry herself sick and became anxious for any news, whether optimistic or grim. When Hedwig dropped a messy white letter off at her window during mid-summer, Hermione screamed from excitement. Hermione couldn't wait to write Harry—for years they had written, growing closer all the time, and now, now they were closer to being able to see each other than ever before. Hermione glanced down and quickly inhaled the words.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Sorry I haven't written in a while (I'll explain later). But first things first, I got top marks at school! First time I've done it, too! The Dursleys were mad and Dudley threatened to beat me to a pulp for beating him, but still. I couldn't help but laugh as he tried to catch me on the playground! You should have seen his face, red with anger (or was that just because he was out of breath?). He couldn't believe I had the nerve to be smarter than him. And you know what I did after that? I outran the ball of fat. I couldn't stop smiling. When I got home, Hedwig practically pounced me she was so excited! She flew right over to my shoulder the instant I reached the backyard. She seemed to understand my news to boot! What a day that was… The rest of the summer wasn't very exciting though, until Dudley's birthday that is._

_Instead of staying at Ms. Figg's this year like I normally do, I got to go with the Dursley's on Dudley's birthday trip. Apparently, she had hurt her ankle or something like that, but I'm just glad I got out of going there! The zoo was a bunch of fun, even though I got punished for it._

_You see, Dudley and his friend were getting really bored at the zoo, and we were in the Reptile House. I had really had enough of them by that point. I was just hanging out by the boa constrictors, when all of the sudden, the boa looked at me really interested. Dudley came running over, knocked me over, and starting leaning against the glass. And you know what happened next? The glass disappeared, he fell inside of the constrictor chamber, the boa escaped, and the glass reappeared. It was bloody fantastic to see the look of fright on Dudley's face as he realized he couldn't escape the glass. No matter how much he screamed for his mum she couldn't make it better, until, of course, the zoo manager came and got him. But because something "freakish" happened around me (I swear it wasn't my fault, but they claim it was), I've been locked in the cupboard for a while, but still, the look on his face! _

_I've been reading the Once and Future King you sent me in the mail while I've been locked up. It's really helped pass the time and it's a great read. Sometimes I feel like the Wart… don't really know why though. _

_Hope to see you soon Hermione! Or at least a letter from you…_

_From your dear friend,_

_Harry Potter_

Hermione positively beamed with pride as she read that Harry got top marks, but she was a bit irked he had been mad enough at his cousin to make the glass disappear. He knew better than to lose his temper like that, it never ended well. Still, it wasn't as though that Muggle didn't have it coming. He really treated Harry awfully, and well, Hermione couldn't deny that the vindictive side of her was satisfied, deep down.

As for a response, Hermione would be sending her birthday present (a few books to last him the rest of summer, or at least for him to read while he wasn't reading his books for school, as well as some candies she'd sneaked into the house past her parents) and her letter. She had already decided not to tell Harry that she was magical, but rather wait for him to receive his Hogwarts letter. However, that didn't mean that she could make some hints…

She looked down at her completed letter and checked it over.

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm happy to hear about your high marks! You deserve it after all the Dursleys have put you through and after all the hard work you have done. It must really get to them that you are the better person than their son, whether it be academically or ethically! I'm sure your parents would be very proud. _

_As for the zoo, I'm glad it was enjoyable, but you really shouldn't derive too much pleasure from seeing Dudley in pain. That sort of thing can't lead to anything good. Still, it's good that you got to go out and go the zoo. It's one of my favorite places to go, besides the library. All of the animals are very interesting to look at. It's one thing to read about them, but it's another to see them in person like that. _

_Around here, things have been pretty calm. I've been going about my usual summer schedule of heading outside with a book and reading until the mid-day heat sends me back in. The best part is though, that everything's calmed down a lot. This is my best summer in memory. You see, after the last episode with Emily (I told you about that a few letters ago, didn't I?), my mum finally saw reason! She's been acting a lot nicer around me lately, saying "I love you," and actually talking and spending time with me. She's acting more like a mum than ever. And my dad's been loads better lately too. It's really great that we're growing closer together now, especially after my letter…_

_Oh, I should explain that I suppose. Next year I'll be heading off to a school for the gifted called Hogwarts. The school's run like a boarding school, so I'll be staying away from home. I won't be able to see my parents for quite some time, which is something I've never experienced before (frightening, but at the same time exhilarating). That's why it's so important for us to come closer together as a family so we can survive being apart for so long. I know I'll miss them, but this is an opportunity I can't pass up. A school for the gifted? You know how well that would suit me. Maybe there, I wouldn't be made fun of anymore! I can dream, can't I, Harry?_

_Don't worry about me writing letters while I'm away at school. You know I'm too stubborn to let them stop me from writing you. And I'm certain Hedwig wouldn't let me stop writing you, either. She'd peck me to death if I didn't send anything. She really likes you, you know._

_Hope you enjoy your birthday present. Happy Birthday! I didn't forget, in case you were wondering after reading this letter… Hope you write back sooner rather than later._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

She quietly rolled up the letter and attached it to the top of a tidy brown package. Hedwig, who was waiting by the window and looking particularly happy today, hooted gleefully as Hermione gave her an owl treat. Hedwig waited patiently as Hermione tied the package up, savoring the taste of the treat. It was her favorite: Gnome.

"It's time to go girl… make sure you get Harry that before his birthday. I have a feeling this will be his only birthday present. I want him to get one, at least. Everyone deserves a birthday present… You'll make sure he gets it, won't you?" asked Hermione.

Hedwig's head rose haughtily, and she confidently glared at Hermione, as though she was annoyed that anyone had ever questioned her ability.

"Glad to hear—er—see that you're up for the job. Take care, Hedwig. Hope to see you soon," said Hermione, smoothly rubbing her hand against Hedwig's soft feathers. Hedwig gave her a soft peck in a response, spread her wings and glided out of the window and out of sight.

Hermione didn't know when Harry would be coming to Diagon Alley, but she didn't force her shopping date into the letter. She didn't know when she would be shopping due to her parents busy schedules, and it would seem a bit odd to tell him something as precise as a date of school shopping. All of that would open the door for more unanswered questions that Hermione was still very unprepared to answer. She would chance shopping alone with her parents and potentially running into him when she did ago. If that didn't happen, she would be happy waiting until Platform 9 ¾. After all, what is a mere month compared to three whole years of waiting?

**HGHGHGHG**

The beginning was coming to an end, and the rest of her life was coming for her. Hermione would finally be able to prove herself to the world.

Throughout all of this turmoil, Hermione never knew it, but the Laws were there. They governed, and they watched. But mainly, they bickered.

They all noticed that she had changed her destiny this time, facing events that didn't fit her memories. She still had a long road ahead of her until she would have to make her true life changing decisions, though. They knew Hermione, and they were proud of how she had adapted to her memories, growing into a bright young witch. But was she bright enough to change her world like she was meant to?

A/N: I've never had to condense eleven years of childhood, near twelve, into one chapter before (it was odd in a way), but I did it. That was a very long chapter, and I sincerely hoped it clearly up a few things…


	3. Chapter 2: Friends

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling wrote some really good books called Harry Potter. Heard of them? Good. You should have. This story's based upon them and does not take credit for the characters, environment, etc. Now go read all of them if you haven't already!

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"_Only your real friends tell you when your face is dirty_."  
- Sicilian Proverb

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**Chapter 2: Friends**

"You'll write, won't you?" implored Beth, tears staining her face.

"Of course, mum, we've been over this, haven't we? I'll be writing you constantly. If something, rather _anything_, happens to me, I'll write you a letter. That's our deal, and I do plan to stand by it, contrary to anything you think," replied Hermione calmly, smiling at her mom.

"You promise? I know most kids your age could care less about their mum…"

"I'm not like most kids my age," replied Hermione.

"That is quite true, you've always been a bit different…"

"If I didn't take pride in being different than the average, superficial person, I might find that offensive," replied Hermione. Her mother smiled.

"Oh Hermione, I love you so much, you will write, promise me?"

"I've already promised. I think this will make the fifth time." Hermione took a second to count her fingers up. "Actually, the sixth…"

"Please, Hermione, promise me that you'll write? My little girl, all grown up and going off to school… I'll want you hear from you…" said Beth Granger, rubbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "We won't be seeing you for so long!"

"Fine. I promise. Again. And don't worry, I'll be fine!" reassured Hermione.

"I wish I could trust an eleven year-old girl, even if it is you," muttered Beth doubtfully.

"You know I really am different. Unlike all the other kids I know, I can take care of myself like a responsible individual," Hermione argued. "I really will be fine. I just know it."

"Sure, dear, you think that, but things can happen when you're away, and I won't be there to protect you…"

"Like you said, I'm not a little girl anymore. I know things happen. I know what can happen. I'm well aware, and I'll be careful. Don't worry!"

"But Hermione…"

"Let her go, Beth. I can tell that she's eager to get going. She got us here a good half-hour early, after all!" said Hermione's father warmly, putting his arm around his wife.

"Thank you!" said Hermione huffily.

"We'll miss you a lot, and we really do love you. You're our world…" replied Saul Granger softly.

"I love you guys too!" said Hermione whole heartedly. "Goodbye?"

"Goodbye," said her parents in unison, their voices soft. They watched their daughter slowly roll her trolley away and descend to the lower platforms, away and out of sight.

Hermione heart dropped. She felt like she had taken a giant step away from her parents by heading to the magical realm of Hogwarts. But no matter her love for her parents, Hermione knew she needed to live her life, and fulfill a destiny that awaited her. Certainly, her desire to stay with her parents and give them a full teary farewell was large, but her need to be at platform 9 ¾ was larger. Her heart picked up its pace, skipping a beat: she would soon see her friends, and that meant she'd see Harry! It was just all too much to handle. She looked down and smiled at the tawny, ginger, squashed nose cat that regally sat on her trolley, peering at the passersby.

"I still can't believe you've been in that Magical Menagerie for so long, Crookshanks! Magical Menagerie my arse, it's more like the Petrifying Prison where they kept you, isn't it?" Crookshanks purred loudly, apparently happy Hermione felt that way too.

"Well, the good thing is that place all behind you now, boy," said Hermione optimistically, petting Crookshanks's ears. He lay down on top of the trunks and basked in the moment, purring loudly. "Now, you'll have to remember not to attack Ron's rat when you first see him. That'll only scare that _murderer_ away. You're going to have to lie in wait, I'm afraid. We'll take care of him eventually—we must, I can't let a murderer being free weigh on my conscience much longer—just you wait and see! I'll trust you to keep watch over him while I'm at school, though. Okay?" Crookshanks didn't move. Hermione assumed it meant he understood her.

"Good, now where are platforms nine and ten?" she asked, feeling lost at King's Cross. "I'm certain I was close a minute ago…" But before Hermione could get anything close to a bearing on direction, she was pushed aside by a flood of businessmen slowly meandering through the station. Stuck in the masses and unable to see over anyone's head, Hermione struggled through the crowd, moving in what she thought was general direction towards the platform. She garnered a variety of curious looks, from interested glances at her cat's unusual disposotion, to distressed stares at a little girl walking around unaccompanied by an adult. Ignoring all of them, Hermione patiently strode through the crowd, waiting for them to move through the station. It took a few minutes, but the sea of people gradually dried up, leaving Hermione and Crookshanks alone with a few stragglers. Finally, Hermione could actually see where she was again.

"Oh! I didn't realize I had been walking around the platform the whole time," muttered Hermione embarrassedly, her cheeks flushing pink. A big, black plastic nine stared down from the sign in front of her. "The pillar should be over just a ways… ah, there it is!" Crookshanks watched curiously as a scrawny little boy walked through the bricks and disappeared, as though nothing were there. Hermione watched her cat's eyes widen with curiosity and smiled.

"Ah, I see you've noticed that everything isn't always what it seems!" remarked Hermione. Crookshanks purred. "It's a good lesson, I think, one that you should take time to internalize.

"Now—where were we—ah yes, I guess we'll just wait until I see someone I know, right? It'll be nice to see them again" Crookshanks lowered his head and lay down, breathing loudly.

"I can't believe Harry didn't write me, though," Hermione began muttering. She knew he should have written her back by now, especially since he recently received his Hogwarts letter. And he should have been ecstatic when he realized that they were going to the same "gifted" school. Recalling the first time she had received her Hogwarts letter—back when she hadn't known anything about magic—Hermione culdn't imagine not talking to someone who would go to the same school.

"Crookshanks?"

The cat looked up at her lazily.

"You don't suppose that Harry never got his letter, do you? " But no, that simply couldn't be. There was simply no way. But Hermione began to doubt her conviction, remembering just how awful the Dursleys were to Harry. Many possibilities of what happened to Harry flew through her head, each worse than the last. Hermione began to bite her nails nervously, sneaking glances around the crowd to see if anyone was coming. For all she knew, Harry might not be coming to Hogwarts at all.

Hermione was about to faint from worry when she saw it.

"The lightning shaped scar! It's him Crookshanks! It's Harry!"

The scar gave away the young boy's identity, but his other traits hid it well. Apparently, Hermione's transfiguration spell had worked better than she could have hoped. The first thing she noticed was his hair (well, it was about the only thing she could see from a distance); the color had not accomplished a complete shift, but it was undeniable that it had changed shade. Instead of deep brown hair, Harry had rich, colorful brown that looked highlighted with brownish orange. Hermione had to admit that this auburn color looked quite fitting on him. What's more, his hair was no longer sat quite as messily; instead, the thick locks were neat and straight, framing his face quite nicely at a length of a few inches.

As Harry weaved his way through the crowd in front of her, more of him came into view. It became quite clear that he was not the scrawny, short boy Hermione had known in her past life, but instead, looked as though he was moderately well-fed (albeit wiry) and of normal height. His clothing had not improved in the slightest, but that could easily be changed later this year sometime with something as simple as a clothing catalogue… Then he came within a few feet of Hermione and stopped, staring at her. His eyes were a brilliant green that contrasted wonderfully with his auburn hair, and gone was the barrier of glasses, his eyes were out in the open, finally able to be seen by the world…

"Hullo? Hermione? I thought you might be here, after your letter," rushed Harry, finally breaking out of his stare. He smiled, and Hermione ran out and hugged him.

"You're here early, Harry!"

"Were you expecting me?" asked Harry bemusedly. "I can't remember writing you back to tell you that I was going to Hogwarts with you."

"Well—erm—I was just so excited to see you, you see, my mind rushed forward, and I thought that if you're here, that meant that you're going to Hogwarts—with me—I mean, why else would you be here? You've never mentioned taking the train anywhere before, have you? From there, I gathered that would mean that you're here to catch the Hogwarts Express, which doesn't leave until eleven, and it's—"Hermione looked down to check her small silver wrist-watch "ten thirty-five! That means you're early, and that's why I said you were early," Hermione rushed, trying to make an alibi. "And wait a second, why did you never write me?" Hermione asked, changing the tables on Harry.

"I'm so sorry, but Hedwig was locked up—but I was so excited—we're going to the same school—I can do magic, I'm not just abnormal, after all—"Hermione cut him off.

"Oh, no, Hedwig was locked up! That explains why you never wrote back!"

"Yeah… I still just can't believe we're going to school together. It's such a coincidence!" Harry exclaimed excitedly.

"It's wonderful, isn't it? I had no idea that I'd be able to finally see you," Hermione lied, trying to cover up her tracks. "And we'll be together the whole year, I suspect. We'll be learning magic, oh it'll be so much fun! You'll be free from Dudley and your aunt and uncle, and I'll be free of those dreadful girls…"

"You don't think there'll be people like them at Hogwarts, do you?" asked Harry nervously.

"Oh, there's always bad eggs in every group, but I think it'll be a drastic improvement from before. And besides, we have each other. That'll make any grim situation one hundred percent better" Hermione answered.

"True…" grinned Harry. "Finally we can just talk!"

"There's only so much you can put in letters," Hermione added. Harry nodded. "You miss that necessary human interaction that helps you get to know the person."

"Erm… yeah," Harry said.

"That is to see you don't really get to know the person."

"Oh, yeah, of course!" replied Harry. Hermione smiled and looked down at the birdcage sitting on top of Harry's cart and met an angry pair of eyes.

"Oh my! Poor Hedwig looks really cross," said Hermione. "Has she gotten out at all over the past few weeks?"

"No, not at all! You see, one night, Hedwig came a little too close to the house and Aunt Petunia got suspicious. She watched me go out and see Hedwig, then demanded that Hedwig be locked away in a cage so that none of the neighbors knew that I was a _freak_."

"No!" Hermione gasped, still shocked at his relative's cruelty. How they were even related to Harry was beyond Hermione's comprehension.

"Yeah, Hedwig was really angry. She was ready to peck out Aunt Petunia's eyes, I think." Hermione heard a ruffle of feathers. "But I convinced her not to do anything rash and told her she had to get into the cage if she wanted to stay with me. Now she's mad at me too. Whenever I try to talk to her, she doesn't say anything. And you know she's the only friend I have at Privet Drive."

"Oh Hedwig, you mustn't be mad at Harry! It's his Aunt Petunia's fault, you know that. Don't blame him for his nasty relatives!" Hedwig's head turned away from Hermione. The snowy owl was ignoring her.

"Yep, she's been in a right state," said Harry, petting Hedwig's feathers. She nipped him and he had to pull his fingers out of her cage. "I think a nice round of flying would cool her down though."

"Oh, definitely!" said Hermione, nodding her head vigorously. "You know, I'm sure she'll be able to fly all the time once we're to school." Harry smiled at that, and Hermione watched as Hedwig turned her head back around and her burning brown eyes lost their angry fire. After Hermione's comment, Hedwig's mood had improved greatly.

The snowy owl began to be quite amiable (albeit haughty). Accepting her plight and becoming hopeful of imminent flight, Hedwig began to look around, her eyes lingering on Crookshanks. Soon enough, Hedwig began hooting to Crookshanks, who began purring and meowing back. Hermione, who had had the oddest experiences with animal communication recently, had the strangest sensation that the two pets were actually conversing, but since when did animals converse? Hermione, however, let curiosity get the best of her, and she listened in.

_Hoot?_

_Meow!_

_Hoot hoot._

_Purrrrr?_

_Coo!_

_Purrr!_

It sounded like they were just getting the hang of talking to each other, introducing themselves, when…

"Hermione?" asked Harry. She stopped listening in.

"Yes," she answered, a bit vexed at not being able to track her pet's social life.

"Do you think that we should make our way to the platform?" Harry asked.

"Probably," agreed Hermione.

"I've been trying to find my way to it, but I couldn't figure it out. Asked the policeman over a ways, but he was no help at all. He laughed at me, said there was no such thing as platform nine and three quarters, and I felt stupid."

"Don't worry about him, he's probably not magic or something. You know, maybe we should just wait and watch," suggested Hermione

"That—that sounds like a great idea. We might be able to pick out someone by the way they dress, or if they have an owl…" added Harry.

"Exactly! Let's just see if someone comes, and they'll lead us right to the platform I bet… Ah, look at that, here comes someone that doesn't look that normal at all!" said Hermione excitedly. From this distance, she could already see the stuffed vulture perched on top of a hat. Soon, the woman's stern face came into sight, her neck wrapped a fox scarf. Her green robes slowly emerged from the shield of people, soon to be followed by the red handbag hanging from her shoulder. Every aspect of the outfit clashed horribly. But all of these signs meant one thing.

_It's Neville_! thought Hermione gleefully. _Okay, act normal, don't screw things up, just be nice, not bossy, and don't dominate conversation… _It took Hermione a while to realize it, but Neville was walking towards them right beside his Gran. Her dominating presence easily overshadowed Neville, leaving him almost as an afterthought, easily passed over by onlookers. His clothing did nothing to distinguish him either: he wore worn blue trousers and matching tattered trainers, as well as a comfortable-looking green long sleeved tee. His pudgy cheeks, light brown hair, and round, brown eyes made him look like a young child. Behind him trailed a large, rickety cart, laden with suitcases and luggage. Hermione took a deep breath.

"Hello?" Hermione said nervously, looking up at the intimidating woman passing her by. Mrs. Longbottom took no notice of her and continued walking. "Hello?" Augusta reluctantly turned around to face the young girl.

"Yes?" answered the elderly woman irritably. "Is there something I can do for you? I'm sort of in a hurry, getting my grandson off to school…"

"We're going to Hogwarts," Hermione interrupted, her voice shaking noticeably. She glanced at Harry and saw him nod, giving her support, "and we don't know how to get to platform nine and three quarters. You see, we're first years and we haven't been here before."

"Who are you?" she asked, looking down menacingly at Harry and Hermione. Hermione's words had finally failed her.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter," replied Harry politely. Mrs. Longbottom's demeanor instantly softened, and Hermione snapped back into consciousness.

"And I'm Hermione Granger," she added.

"Ah, it's good to see you out and about, Mr. Potter. Didn't think you died after all those years gone, but I can't lie that seeing you is a sight for these sore old eyes," she said warmly, although she retained an air about her demanding respect. "Glad to see you starting your first year… my grandson, Neville, is as well."

"Really?" asked Hermione, inserting herself back into the conversation. "That's great!"

"Why don't you introduce yourself, Neville, instead of cowering behind me like that?" Neville's gran admonished. Sure enough, he had slid behind his gran during the conversation, and now, embarrassedly poked his red, chubby face out from behind her.

"Hi," Neville said feebly, walking out in the open to greet Harry and Hermione. "Gr-gran already told you, bu-but I-I guess I can t-tell you ag-gain. I'm N-Neville." Harry didn't say anything, so Hermione sighed and spoke up.

"I'm Hermione Granger and this is my friend Harry Potter," she said, eagerly shaking Neville's hand. His jaw dropped just a little over hearing Harry's name and seeing his scar, but he didn't say anything.

"Pleased to meet you," said Harry shyly, taking Neville's hand himself.

"P-pleasure's all m-mine!" said Neville, beaming. He had just shook Harry Potter's hand, after all. Neville's gran coughed.

"Now then," gran said. "You three better get on through the barrier. You just have to believe something's on the other side and walk through. I'll go first, and I expect you all to follow right after me." With that, she turned on her heel and walked right into the stone wall, disappearing right before their eyes.

"Well that's easy for her to say, believing something's on the other side!"

"Well you've seen people walking through it," argued Hermione. "You just have to trust the magic will get you there."

"T-true," stammered Neville. "B-but I f-feel like even if I t-trust it, I'm just going to w-walk straight into the wall! I alw-ways f-fail at these th-things!"

"I don't think you will. None of us will," said Hermione. Harry stared at her for a moment.

"How about we all just go through at once, together. It'll be a tight squeeze with our luggage, but I think we'll make it," suggested Harry. Neville nodded enthusiastically. They walked over to the pillar and grabbed each other's hands. "Okay, on the count of three. One, two, THREE!" Eyes closed, they all nervously ran forward, and encountered nothing but a bright light and fresh breeze awaiting them. Hermione looked up and saw sparkling gold numbers.

"We're here! It's platform nine and three quarters!" she said joyfully. Neville, who appeared to be shaking, let out a sigh of relief. Harry smiled and pulled his cart along, his head turning in order to take in all of it. Everyone was moving around, some with children, others standing alone waving towards the train. Trolleys were scattered, a few wands were waved to clean up some fallen trunks… in one word, the scene was _magical_.

"There you three are! Took you lot long enough just to walk through onto the platform. Well, come on, get on the train. It'll be leaving in ten minutes!"

"Th-thanks Gran," said Neville. He muttered something Hermione couldn't hear and hugged his grandmother. His gran smiled for a moment before letting her face grow stone hard again.

"I'll be in touch, Neville. Be a good boy. Make your parents proud," she said, leaving the platform, her green robes billowing silently behind her.

"So, I guess we'll get on the train then?" said Hermione, sensing a bit of an uneasy spot for Neville. Harry and Neville nodded. "Oooo, look, I bet he's another first year, let's say hello to them first, okay?" She pointed towards the portal where a group of flaming red-heads rushed through, followed by a small boy, his plump mother and what appeared to be his little sister. The only face Hermione could make out with this small boy. It was Ron. Her heart fell, her mind raced, her eyes grew wide. Last Hermione knew, Ron was dead at the hands of the Xuan Wu, but here he stood in front of her, eleven years old… She still wasn't used to seeing those who she had accepted as dead back in the flesh. It was too otherworldly, too emotional…

"Okay. Let's go see them," said Harry, looking over at the group.

"Good," said Hermione, leading the way over. It would be a bit awkward starting conversation with Ron, but now better than never, right? She just would have to stay calm.

"Hello," said Hermione, tapping Ron on the shoulder from the side. He turned his head and looked at her, his blue eyes betraying his surprise.

"Do I know you…?" Ron asked her. Hermione rolled her eyes and bit her lip.

_Such typical Ron_, thought Hermione.

"I thought you were a first year… and we're first years too, might be nice I we introduced ourselves, I guess," said Hermione lamely.

_Ron always makes the situation so much more awkward than it need be_. _Once a clueless prat, always a clueless prat_.

"I'm Harry Potter," said Harry. Ron's mouth fell open and he began to say something, but then—

"I'm Neville Longbottom," Neville quickly said, cutting Ron off.

"And I'm Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you—er—"

"Ronald Weasley. I go by Ron," he replied. "You're Harry Potter? Can I see your scar?" Harry sighed, but lifted his auburn hair to reveal the lightning bolt scar. Ron gasped.

"Wow, You-Know-Who did that?" asked Ron.

"I don't know," said Harry irritably. "All I remember is a green light, and I think it was from that night…"

"Wicked…"

"Harry's in books you know, I've seen him in The _Rise and the Fall of the Dark Arts_…" said Hermione, but she cut off. Harry glared at her.

"Sorry," she squeaked. "Just thought I would expand a bit. Got carried away."

"S-so," said Neville nervously. "Y-you have brothers who go here already?"

"Yes," answered Ron. "But that doesn't mean that I know a lot about the school. A load of rubbish they told me, I bet. A good deal of help that'll be…"

_CHOO_!

A whistle emanated from the train, a huge amount of steam erupting from the train's chimney.

"I th-think we should get onboard before the train l-leaves without us!" suggested Neville, clearly frightened about being left behind.

"Right," said Harry, leading the four of them onto the train. They meandered their way down the hall, past groups of huge, intimidating older students, searching for an empty compartment. It took a while, but they found an empty one near the end of the Hogwarts Express. They perched their luggage on the empty rack and settled in just as the train lurched forward. They were on their way to Hogwarts.

Hermione and Harry sat next to each other by the window; Hedwig's cage sat at the end of the seat with Crookshanks lying next to the proud owl. The two pets appeared to be getting along famously, and noises were constantly coming from their corner as a low steady murmur. Ron and Neville, on the other hand, opted for a more distant approach. They both sat across from Harry and Hermione, although they were both quite far apart from each other. Sitting down, all of them couldn't help but let their eyes wander around the room. They examined the red leather seats, the brilliantly designed carpet, the intricate carvings in the moldings, the polished wood, the tall window, the tidy shelves holding their luggage… It was a very nice compartment, to say the least. Although Hermione thought the compartment was very nice, cozy even, she found the quiet that encompassed the room to be quite unsatisfying.

_Why is it always up to me to start conversation, to lead when no one else wants to? True, I'm probably the most mature one here, being a girl, and having memories of things this lot couldn't even dream of_…Hermione grimaced.

"So, everyone looking forward to the sorting into houses?" asked Hermione, dangling this information in front of them. They all stared at her, not understanding what she meant.

"What s-sorting?" said Neville.

"And what are houses?" asked Harry.

"Oi, even I can answer that," said Ron.

"Sorry, but I grew up with non-magic folk, so I don't know everything there is to know," said Harry coolly.

"I didn't know," squeaked Ron.

"It's okay. Anyways, what are houses?" asked Harry.

"There are four. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff. Slytherin's for slimy gits, Ravenclaw's for the clever ones, Gryffindor's for the bravest and the best, and Hufflepuff's for the rest," summed up Ron.

"Not the way I would have described it," Hermione chimed in.

"Well, go on then, if you're so clever, how would you've said it?" said Ron a bit angrily.

"I didn't mean it that way… just that we'd go about it differently, that's all," conceded Hermione. She did not want to get on Ron's bad side this early on, that would just lead to awful things. An image of a troll flashed in her mind's eye, and she shivered.

"I would like to know, though," said Harry.

"And p-please include the s-sorting," stammered Neville.

"Yeah, what's sorting?" asked Ron.

"Oh-alright," said Hermione, giving in. "I've read all about it! There are four houses at Hogwarts, each named after one of the four founders. Each of these founders sought something different in their students: Salazar Slytherin prized ambition, Helga Hufflepuff prized hard-work, Rowena Ravenclaw prized wit, and Godric Gryffindor prized bravery. Now, Gryffindor created a sorting hat in order to sort students into each of these houses, even when he wasn't there. I assume you just pop on the hat and get sorted, although I could be wrong…"

"No, th-that sounds right. N-now I remember my gran saying something about an h-hat," stammered Neville.

_Your Gran has scared you into a right state. You can't even string a sentence together without questioning yourself! We'll have to work on that_, thought Hermione.

"Lucky you, my brothers just told me we'd be dueling or what not."

"Well that's what you have friends for!" smiled Hermione. "To help protect yourself from your brother's jokes. Ron didn't know what to make of Hermione's comment, but Neville seemed quite happy about it.

"F-friends?" Neville asked.

"Yes Neville, I think we're getting along well enough to assume we're becoming friends," replied Hermione warmly. Ron gave a grunt and Harry smiled.

"Thank you. I've never had friends before," admitted Neville. As soon as he said it, he threw his hands over his mouth. "I c-can't b-believe I just th—I mean—sa-said that!"

"Don't worry about it!" said Harry honestly, walking over to sit next to Neville and put his arm around him reassuringly. "Hermione and I have had a bit of time making friends too."

"Yeah, all I've had are my brothers and my sister. Bill and Charlie have already done everything, Percy's a prefect, Fred and George are funny, and I'm-I'm just plain old Ron! But they're all I've got, along with Ginny. Otherwise, I'm a bit low on friends, too," added Ron glumly. Harry returned to Hermione's side as she spoke up.

"Hey, if we're already all friends, I think we're right on way to becoming the most popular people in school!" piped in Hermione, trying to cheer everyone up. Laughter ensued.

"I don't know about that, we've all never been very popular," said Ron.

"Hey, for your information, popularity is in the eye of the beholder, Mr. I-have-a-smudge-on-my-nose," retorted Hermione. Ron turned pink and tried to wipe off the dirt. "Sorry, didn't mean to be…"

"It's okay," Ron interrupted. "I'd rather you tell me than some slimy Slytherin git." He added a shiver in for effect

"What's so b-bad about Sl-slytherins?" asked Neville curiously.

"Everyone knows all the wizards that go bad are in Slytherin," replied Ron full-heartedly.

"Well, clearly _not_ everyone," corrected Hermione, getting a glare from Ron. "Sorry, but you can 'go bad' if you're in another house. Certainly, there are dark wizards in Slytherin, but you can be dark in another house, too!"

"Right," said Ron. He winked a Neville.

"That kind of attitude will just cut you off from potential friends!" replied Hermione angrily.

"Like I would want to be friends…"

"Hermione's right," interrupted Harry. Ron's face displayed shock, Neville's mouth made an 'o' and Hermione looked vindicated. "We shouldn't judge people just on being in a house. We'll have to judge them ourselves."

"R-right!" agreed Neville. "My gr-gran always says that I have a head on m-m-my shoulders, m-might as well use it!"

"That's the spirit!" Hermione exclaimed, clasping her hands in glee. Ron grimaced.

"You all are against me, agreeing with that stupid know-it-all," he grumbled. Even though Hermione had expected it, it still hurt coming from Ron. She had erected an emotional shield, but this cruel knife slipped through, digging into her heart…

"That was uncalled for, calling her that! Apologize right now!" Neville said hotly, his face red.

"Neville-you didn't stutter!" said Hermione.

"I mean it! Apologize! She m-might be a bit smarter than the rest of us, but she's right!"

"Sorry… I didn't mean it… just think you all are ganging up on me, that's all," muttered Ron.

" We didn't mean to," admitted Harry. Silence bloomed, and Hermione built a bridge over the silent waters.

"So… everyone want to introduce their pets?" Hermione asked.

"Sounds good to me," added Harry. "Who wants to go first?" Ron pulled his grey, fat rat out of his pocket.

"I've got Scabbers. He's an old rat and a hand-me-down from Percy. Perce found him years ago in the garden getting chased by gnomes! He said that Scabbers was scared to death, bleeding and hungry and what not, and needed a home. My parents let him keep him, and now he's mine. He's rubbish, but…"

"That's very nice," Hermione said, smiling. Ron nodded. They all looked at Neville.

"M-me?" he asked. They all nodded. "Oh! Okay! I have a t-toad named Trevor! Oh no! He was supposed to be in m-my tr-trousers!"

"What do you mean, 'supposed to be?'" asked Hermione.

"I think the compartment escaped from me," Neville said, quite distressed.

"What'd you just say?" asked Ron.

"He must have escaped from me when I came into the compartment!" repeated Neville.

"Oh, sure, that make sense," replied Ron. "So, you lost him already?" Ron asked, struggling not to laugh.

"Don't laugh at him!" said Hermione looking sternly at Ron. He shut right up. "Toads are slippery and quite easy to lose, even for the best of us. It's not his fault his toad moves, unlike a rat I know…"

"Hey, Scabbers is just tired, that's all!" replied Ron.

"Fine, fine," said Hermione. "Still, toads are hard to keep track of, they can hop right off."

"Right," agreed Harry, nodding. Neville seemed to gain some composure back from this, but still appeared worried.

"Sh-should I go looking for him?" asked Neville. "I d-don't want anyth-thing to hurt him. Oh no, he co-co-could have be st-stepped on! He'd go sq-sq-squish, and I'd n-n-n-never see him again!"

"Don't think that way," said Hermione. "Let's just wait for him to come back. I'm sure he'll be fine"

"I don't know about that. It might be best for Neville to go out and look for Trevor," said Harry doubtfully.

"Really. He should stay," replied Hermione stoutly. Harry and Ron gave her questioning looks.

"Fine, he'll stay here and lose his ruddy toad," said Ron.

"N-no!" said Neville, looking petrified. "I don't want to lose Tr-Trevor! He's the only pet I have." As Neville, Harry, and Ron continued bickering, Hermione took a chance, hoping no one was looking at her. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm and focus herself and then…

_Accio Trevor_! she thought loudly, focusing hard on bringing the toad here. Nothing happened. _Accio Trevor_!

_Bump._

_Accio Trevor!_

_Bump!_

_Accio Trevor!_

_BUMP!_

_Accio Trevor! Accio Trevor! Accio Trevor!_

_BUMP! BUMP! CRASH!_

"Wait," said Harry, breaking Hermione's conversation and the skirmish between the three boys. "It sounds like someone's at the door."

"Open it then," grunted Ron. Neville nodded. Harry stood up and pulled open the door.

"That's odd. No one's here…" Harry said, gazing around the hall. "Aha! It's… it's a toad." Harry pointed at his feet.

"Trevor!" yelled Neville merrily, jumping up from his seat and running to pick up his toad. "He looks a bit br-bruised. Someone must have stepped on him…"

_Oh no! I summoned him, but I forgot to open the door. He must have been that infernal knocking on the door, and I bruised him. Well there's little chance I'll let him stay bruised_, thought Hermione hurriedly.

"Looks like someone stepped on him out there, realized he was on their foot, then dropped him off at the door after knocking…" added in Ron.

"He really looks br-bruised!" said Neville.

"I'm sure it's just the light in here," Hermione expertly lied.

_Episkey_, she thought, her mind focusing on the toad. _Aha! He looks much better._

"G-guess you were right!" commented Neville, pulling up Trevor to his face to examine him better. "C-can't believe it though. Sw-swore he was bruised, but he looks fine…" Trevor gave a half-hearted croak.

"Anything else you want to tell us about Trevor, now that we've seen him?" asked Hermione sweetly.

"Not re-really…"

"Oh come one! There must be something. Please tell us. It's only fair, we're all going to be giving a little bio," pleaded Hermione. Neville sighed.

"Tre-Trevor was my gift for doing magic when I was eight. I won't go into it, b-but let's just sa-say that m-my family th-thought I was a sq-sq-sq?"  
"Squirt?"

"Squid?"

"Squat!" corrected Neville, his face reddening.

"What's a squat?" asked Ron.

"I don't think that's what Neville meant to say," said Hermione. She looked at him and nodded for him to continue.

"They thought I was a Squib!" Neville blurted out.

"I'm not surprised. It's clear to me your family has been intimidating you, you can't even make a sentence without fearing it's wrong! No, I doubt you were ever close to a Squib. Never doubt that you're strong Neville," commented Hermione.

"I don't think my family meant anything, they love me."

"Yeah Hermione, that sounded a bit cruel," said Ron. Harry remained silent.

"Honestly though, they intimidated a child, pushing him to the edge of death."

"I never mentioned anything about falling out of the window," muttered Neville. Hermione looked shocked, but quickly covered up her surprise.

"I could have sworn you did," she murmured. Harry looked very intrigued, while Ron could honestly care less.

"H-how did you know?" asked Neville.

"Lucky guess from your demeanor," Hermione fudged. Neville, who seemed confused, appeared to buy it. Hermione uttered a sigh of relief.

"So, where were we—ah yes, Harry, if you would please—"

"Sure, this owl in the corner is Hedwig. Hermione gave her to me years ago, told me I could keep her, although I suspect Hedwig made her. Hedwig's a great owl and an even better friend. She's never been late for delivery of a letter and she's always known where it is. And she knows me… I couldn't ask for more," admitted Harry warmly.

"Blimey, she's pretty… and smart you said?" asked Ron interestedly.

"Wi-wish I ha-had a pet that nice! Tr-Trevor's just a constant re-reminder that I alm-most wasn't able to do ma-ma-magic," Neville stumbled. Trevor uttered a distraught croak.

"Me too. Everything I own is rubbish. Including Scabbers," Ron chimed in.

"Well then, I know what I'll be getting you two for Christmas!" Hermione said happily.

"Re-really? We'll be-be friends then?" asked Neville honestly.

"We've been down this road already, guys. I really think we will be when it all comes down to it. Dunno, but I have a feeling about it…" interjected Harry.

"Agreed. I think we'll be just fine," affirmed Hermione. "Now, as for my cat slash Kneazle, Crookshanks… He's very dear to me and is very clever. Sometimes I swear he's of human intelligence.. Let's just say he's a good judge of character. He'll probably end up slinking around wherever we stay," remarked Hermione. Crookshanks purred loudly for good measure.

"He's a one fat cat," said Ron. Crookshanks hissed, eying Ron's front pocket angrily. Hermione noticed this and slight right over to begin petting the tawny cat.

"See, he's smart, he knew you were insulting him," said Hermione.

"Guess that's true," mumbled Ron.

"I think he's fat. I mean, fantastic!" remarked Neville, realizing his mistake. Crookshanks appeared to get that it was a compliment, purring loudly in response.

"Well good then… it's nice to know something about each other now," admitted Harry.

"Most definitely. Now I don't feel like a complete stranger," Ron said. A quiet fell over the room, only punctuated by the sounds emitted by Hedwig and Crookshanks. It lasted for minutes, as Hermione was determined not to end it this time, until—

_Growl_.

"What was that?" Harry asked openly. Ron's face reddened.

"It so-sounded like a m-mon-monster!" Neville yelped, frightened.

"No monster I've read about," said Hermione.

_Growl_. Neville jumped. There it was again.

_ROAR_! Neville squeaked and moved away from Ron.

"I think it's coming from that corner," he whispered, pointing towards Ron.

"It's my stomach," Ron muttered, hoping no one heard him.

"Oh, only your st-stomach. What a relief!" laughed Neville.

"Suppose we should eat some lunch then… I think we've been talking for a good hour or so. Time does seem to fly when you're having fun," said Hermione gleefully.

"Too bad I only have _this_ for lunch," Ron groaned, pulling out a heavily wrapped sandwich. "It's corn beef on crack wheat. If it wasn't dry and if the bread wasn't toasted to a crisp, it'd be edible. Sometimes my mum rushes with so many children, and I get rubbish for food…"

"Don't worry about it!" piped up Hermione. "I thought that it might be fun if I brought some extra food with me on the train today. I've always found food to be a bit of something people bond over. Let's see, I've got some sandwiches, crisps, some apples, and ooo! My mom baked me a farewell cake. My parents are dentists and they don't usually allow any sweets, and I do mean any. My childhood was sadly a sweet free environment, but I digress…my mum thought the occasion was special enough to warrant a sweet, namely this cake. And let me tell you, my mum is an amazing cook when she's up to the task. Look's like she's made her triple chocolate cake, and I think it'd be great if I could share if with you guys. It's really good," Hermione gabbed.

"What are dentists?" asked Ron.

"Yeah, what are th-they?" Neville added.

"Oh! That's right, it's a non-magical occupation, isn't it? They're the Muggle people who take care of everyone's teeth. You know, keep them clean, prevent cavities…"

"What are cavities?" asked Ron.

"Decay in the teeth, and don't you dare ask me about how teeth can decay," rushed Hermione, watching Ron's mouth open and quickly slam shut. "I think it's advisable that you consider taking Muggle Studies, since you seem a little ignorant of Muggles."

"Oh, thanks."

"No harm meant by it, but I have a feeling I could spend the whole afternoon telling you about things you've never heard of, like a telephone," said Hermione.

"You mean a felly-tone? My dad talks about them all the time…" said Ron. Hermione did of a bit of a double-take.

_How on Earth did I not remember that Ron's dad was so into Muggle things. Ron knows some things of course from it, he's not completely ignorant. How forgetful of me! I mean the obsession was a bit of a phase Mr. Weasley went through, he admitted it himself, but still, I can't believe I forgot_, thought Hermione.

"No I meant telephone. Let's save this conversation for another day. I think now it's time that we," Hermione paused, and Ron's stomach grumbled. "eat."

"Can I have some of your food too?" asked Harry shyly.

"Of course you can! I offered everybody some. And of course I figured—" Hermione stopped.

"Figured what?" asked Harry, back to his normal non-shy self.

"I just figured that I'd be meeting people today and that they'd be hungry," Hermione fibbed. Harry gave her a questioning glance, but shook it off. "And Neville, I expect you to have some of my food too. At least try the cake, it really is delicious."

Neville, who looked quite reluctant to do anything for a moment reached out his hand for a sandwich and grabbed it. He began chewing.

_Knock, knock, knock_.

"Tea trolley here, open up!" chirped a pleasant voice. Harry finished chewing and opened the door.

"I've got sweets here—Bertie Botts's beans, Chocolate Frogs, Scurrying Skittles…"

"I'll take the lot," Harry interrupted. Ron beamed.

"Well—erm—okay, that's quite unusual, that'll be… 12 galleons I think?" replied the witch.

"Great!" Harry said, rummaging around his bag and pulling out twelve large gold coins that glinted in the light. The witch pocketed the coins in her billowy apron and began to wave her wand, moving most of the sweets off the cart and onto a portion of open seat in the compartment. The candy began stacking itself up, piling high into a leaning hill of sweets. Despite the huge mound sitting beside him, Ron looked distressed that not all the sweets had come off of the cart, and the kind lady took notice.

"Oh! You're looking at the sweets I left behind? Well I couldn't give you lot all of them! I have to have some for the other children in this car, right?" said the witch. Ron nodded but didn't seem at all satiated.

"Thank you all and have a great year at Hogwarts. I'm sure you'll love it!" she said cheerily, sliding out the door and closing it behind her.

"Wow, we have all that candy and a cake… I'm sure my parents would definitely not approve," announced Hermione, a reproachful tone seeping into her voice.

"Lemme guess, it'd be something about decay, right?" asked Ron.

"Yes, wow, you're quite smart!" Hermione proclaimed. Ron's back straightened and he wore a grin.

"I don't care about decay," Harry remarked. "I am only eleven after all. But it's like Hermione said: food brings people together. What better thing to do than eat candy!"

"R-right!" agreed Neville amiably.

Sure enough, if the four had been getting along well before, it was nothing to what they were doing after eating. The barrier in between all of them began to fall down; Neville became less and less aware of his stutter, Ron cared less about being right or special, Harry began to have a lot more fun and talked freely, and Hermione let her know-it-all side take the back-seat as she laughed along with everyone else. Raucous laughter and interested conversation sounded from the car, as though the four were having a regular old hootenanny.

Sandwiches and cake behind them, the foursome played a game of taste the Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans. Harry started ate one, handed it over to Hermione, who gave it to Ron, who gave it to Neville who handed it back to Harry. They'd each announce the flavor they had just eaten and move on to the next person…

"Pepper!" Harry remarked, his mouth making an odd shape.

"Emmm, Chocolate. Didn't know they had those…" Hermione admitted.

"Mint!" Ron said, smacking his lips. Neville took a bean and froze, spitting it out.

"Tasted like vomit!" he said, his eyes wide.

"You can't be serious," laughed Ron.

"B-but I am! You wanna try it?"

"No! Let's just keep going."

"Banana," said Harry.

"Lime," said Hermione.

"Chicken," said Ron.

"Lavender," said Neville.

"Irish crème!"

"Dirt."

"Ew… beetle…"

"Parchment, bleh."

"Blood!?" shouted Harry in disbelief. It _was_ every flavor, though.

"Cilantro."

"Lemon."

"Chili pepper."

"Sugar cookie."

"Salsa?"

"Hair…"

"Ear wax…"

"Mold…"

"Hmmm, mine tastes like… sunshine… it's really sweet and warm."

"That's an odd flavor, sunshine. George and Fred thought they got a dirty sock flavored one once, but I have no idea if it's true," said Ron.

"Hmmm, one left. Do you think we should try giving one to one of our pets?" asked Harry, a sly look in his eye.

"I don't know… what color is it?" inquired Hermione. Somehow Neville had already gotten a hold of the box. He peered inside of it and picked out the last jelly bean.

"Dark green."

"That could mean anything, though. Hmmm, well Crookshanks does like his sweets and he doesn't get them much," thought Hermione aloud. "Okay then, how does that sound Crookshanks? You up to eating this? I know! You can have a chocolate frog afterwards, but only if you eat it, okay?"

"Hope it doesn't hurt him," admitted Neville.

"I don't think this is quite animal testing, I doubt it would be excruciating for him," said Hermione. She took the bean from Neville and held it out in front of Crookshanks, who looked at the sweet warily. He appeared to be aware that it could taste horrible, but also that he would be getting chocolate for trying it. He was clearly at odds, his eyes shifting around. Finally, he padded over to Hermione's and snatched up the green little bean.

_HACK! WHEEZE! HACK! _

Crookshanks instantly coughed out the half-chewed bean (along with a decent size hairball) and glared at Hermione. Clearly Crookshanks was furious, and he leapt over to Ron at scratched at him, right about where Scabbers was.

"Crookshanks, no! Come back here, now!" reprimanded Hermione, leaping into action before Crookshanks could do any harm. Hermione looked at Ron to see a cut on his arm seeping blood, but no other damage. Scabbers appeared intact, which was the important thing.

"I'm so sorry," apologized Hermione. "I don't know what got into him. Usually he's so well behaved."

"Don't worry about it. It's just a nick. And besides, I think it was that bean that messed him up," replied Ron quite maturely.

"You're right, I should probably taste it," said Hermione.

"You're not going to…" Neville softly chided, but it was too late.

"Ewwww…" said Ron, watching Hermione's face turn green. They all saw her spit the bean out, and it sailed right out the open upper window.

"That was absolutely horrid," admitted Hermione.

"Why do ya think Cr-Crookshanks attacked Ron?" asked Neville.

"It tasted like a confounding potion…"

"How would you know what a confounding potion tastes like?" asked Harry warily.

"I read about it, of course! It fit the book's specifications for taste, exactly. Tastes like pain," Hermione fibbed.

"Right," said Ron.

"But that does explain why Crookshanks attacked Ron, right? He was confounded, didn't care about what I thought. I guess the taste of the potion was so accurate, it actually made the effects occur…"

"Uhm, but how did you remember how it tasted from a book?" inquired Harry. But before Hermione could answer, the door slid open, saving Hermione and revealing two stocky red-heads.

Hermione's mind instantly flashed to their deaths. One of them had fallen prey to a crumbling wall, lying limp of the floor, his face pale. The other had committed suicide, unable to live in a world devoid of laughter without his twin. Hermione felt her heart wrench and her head lighten; she struggled to even comprehend they were there. For so long, she had accepted their tragic loss, but now, they were staring at her, grins on their faces, their infectious laughter spreading…

_I just can't believe it. How long has it been? Sixty years, plus eleven in this life. I just put them all behind me when George hung himself that night. It was too tragic to remember, but now seeing them here, it's making it all come back, making it all too much to handle! Just be happy, Hermione. Be happy that you have been given the chance to save them, to save them from death, to save the world from a fate without their laughter,_ thought Hermione.

"Oi, here's ickle Ronniekins," said one.

"Yes, and he's already got little friends," chimed in the other.

"Shut it," muttered Ron.

"What did you say?" asked the first twin, raising his hand to his ear.

"Get bent!" shouted Ron.

"Oi, Ron's picked up a potty mouth from the village Muggles."

_It's too much! It's one thing seeing them here, but it's another to have them talking, all of our fun times together, taken, they were gone and now they're back, oh no!_ Hermione uttered a muffled sob.

"What's wrong with her?" the first one asked Ron.

"Dunno."

"Sorry… just happy to see people…"

"Mental, that one," commented Ron.

"Ron," chided Neville.

"In a good way!" Ron corrected.

"Now, who are these two guys? Your brothers?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," said Neville. "Who are they?"

"I'm Fred," said the first.

"And I'm George!"

"It's our lot in life to—"

"Make our brothers' lives living hell!"

"It just happens that Ron's the youngest—"

"Which makes him a prime victim—"

"And he can't fight back like the others—"

"Right you are, Fred, o' brother of mine—"

"And because you three appear to be associated with him—"

"How unlucky of you to choose this car—"

"You'll be pranked too!"

_The twin dynamic, their deaths, oh no, I can see them dead! I want to scream_, thought Hermione distraughtly. She began to take deep breaths to settle herself down.

"Oh great, the only friends I have, you two have to barge in and chase them out. Thanks a lot. Lemme guess, this is the birthday gift you forgot to get me," replied Ron angrily.

"Right you are Ronniekins," replied Fred.

Hermione felt the stress of the situation leaving, she began to just feel overjoyed that she was given a second chance with them.

"No, you're not right!" piped up Neville. "I'm not le-leaving."

"Oh, we've got a brave one, better think outside of the cauldron on this one!" whispered George to Fred.

"No, no matter what you do, we won't leave Ron just because of his pesky older brothers," added Harry.

"Relax," said Fred.

"We meant nothing by it!" said George.

"There are better targets than Ron and his innocent little friends!" Fred added. "Are you going to introduce us to your little playmates, Ron?"

"I'm not so little! I'm nearly as big as you two!" replied Ron, standing up to face his older brothers.

"Not where it matters…" George whispered. Ron turned red.

"And anyways, they can introduce themselves!" replied Ron hotly.

"I'm Neville Longbottom!" piped up Neville.

"Hermione Granger," muttered Hermione, still in shock. She continued her deep breathing.

"And I'm Harry Potter." The twins looked surprised.

"The Harry Potter? There were rumors that you'd be coming to Hogwarts—" said Fred.

"But we never thought it'd be this year. There's been no news on the train—"

"And honestly, I can see why, you don't look like I'd expect—"

"But he's got the scar—"

"Right he does—"

"Does it hurt?"

"Stop badgering him. He's had enough of it, I can tell you two gits," admonished Ron, standing up to his brothers. Fred's cheeks turned a bit pink, but George's face remained pale with freckles.

"Didn't mean to badger, just nice to meet Harry Potter, that's all," said George.

"Yeah, sorry," added Fred lamely.

"It's all right," replied Harry, accepting their apology. Conversation stopped, Hermione was once more forced into the role of instigator.

"So, what houses are you two in?" asked Hermione, her composure finally back with her.

"We're Gryffindors and proud of it!" replied George.

"I think that's what we're all hoping for at this point. I reason that worse come to worse, we can argue with the Sorting Hat."

"Oi, you know about him. We've been hoping for years that Ron would think he would have to fight a troll just to be sorted," admitted Fred.

"But now you've gone and ruined it in one fell swoop."

"Years of preparation—gone!"

"You're welcome," said Hermione. "Are you two 'pesky' twins going to prank me for it? Am I not an innocent playmate of Ron's now?"

"She's asking for it, might as well give it to her," said Fred.

"She'll never know what hit her, but she'll be hit."

"Definitely."

"Oh you two don't scare me. It's you two who should be scared. There's four of us and two of you. If you prank us, we'll just prank you back," threatened Hermione.

"I never expected you to prank someone," whispered Harry into Hermione's ear.

"Well I do play by the rules. This time it just won't be the official set; it'll be their rules," replied Hermione quietly.

"Is that really a threat to us, the best pair of pranksters Hogwarts has ever seen?" asked George.

"I suppose it is a threat," replied Hermione.

"Do you really think you can do anything to us?" asked George.

"Yes. Yes I do. With all of our talents, we can do _anything_ to you."

Fred and George looked at each other, as though wondering if they should take her seriously. They shrugged their shoulders and eyed the mound of candy sitting in the car.

"Are you going to take our candy?" asked Ron glumly.

"Might as well take some for the road," replied Fred with a large wink.

"We'll be seeing you, soon, I bet, but now it's time that we left."

"So long!"

"Farewell!" added George with a flourished wave. They picked up some candy and walked straight out the door. Harry closed it behind them.

"That was interesting," remarked Harry, sitting back down.

"They seemed like b-bullies!" muttered Neville.

"Oh, I don't think they're bullies," Hermione commented. "More like pranksters who fight for what needs to be fought for at the moment. At least, that's the impression I got."

"Yeah, that sounds like Fred and George. Sometimes though, the 'fight' is for a good laugh," Ron grumbled.

"I hope they're n-nice to us at school!" Neville said.

"They better be. My threat wasn't empty. If they come pranking us we'll most certainly prank them right back!" said Hermione earnestly.

"I guess," muttered Ron.

"Don't be so down," said Harry. "They seem like good enough guys… I sort of wish I lived with them, too. You know, my house is so quiet and neat, but they seem to be noisy and disorderly. It'd be great."

"Yeah, you're right," said Ron enthusiastically.

With the twins gone, conversation began to twist and turn in the compartment; Ron spent a good half hour introducing Quidditch to Harry and Hermione (Hermione still hadn't figured the sport out yet), which then rolled right into talking about flying. At that point, Neville and Ron split off from the conversation and began talking about their first flight on a broom, while Hermione and Harry talked about cleaning with a broom the Muggle way, and the feeling of flying their first time. Then Neville asked if they'd be learning to fly at Hogwarts, which spiraled into a full catalogue of courses description by Hermione…

"..And I think Transfiguration will be my favorite class," Hermione finished. "What about you Harry, any thoughts?"

"Hmmm, I thought Charms and Defense sounded nice, but History sounded awful," Harry remarked.

"Agreed," Ron said.

"I think Herbology and Portions sound best," muttered Neville.

"Portions? You can't be serious," replied Ron. "That's taught by Snape, and he's one slimy git…"

"I meant Charms," admitted Neville, his face turning red.

"Sounds like we all like different things. That's most wonderful…" said Hermione. But before she could continue on, the door to the compartment slid open.

"Ah… so the rumors are true, Harry Potter has returned to Hogwarts…" a familiar voice drawled.

_Malfoy_.

"And you are…?" asked Harry.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, and these are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, better known as just Crabbe and Goyle," introduced Draco. "I think you'll find us to be much better company than this lot."

"I don't know about that, I'm fine here," replied Harry coolly.

"This poor lot? You deserve better than this…" Draco said.

"I'm fine here," Harry stated hotly.

"Insulting me and making bad choices already? If you're not careful, something might just happen to you Potter, just like something happened to your parents," said Malfoy coldly. "Well, since you've already decided, I think I should leave you alone to realize what a huge mistake you have made…"

"You're welcome to sit down with us, Draco," invited Hermione politely, cutting Malfoy off. "We were just discussing classes, and I'm sure we all could use some more input." Draco seemed to ponder it, but turned around to leave.

"Going so soon? I see then, you're just going to follow your father and not think for yourself. I expected better of a Malfoy, but then I again I guess they just all get possessed by the Pure-blooded mania. Pity, I thought that the family name might actually mean something," Hermione drawled, uncharacteristically scathing. She had the upper hand in the conversation, and she wasn't about to lose it.

"Shut it, Mudblood," snapped Draco, turning back around. Ron jumped up.

"Sit. Ron. This is my battle, I'm fully aware of what he meant by it. I just thought that he would have been able to make a smarter comeback. Again, he fails to live up the greatness his title demands," said Hermione. Words failed Draco. "Really, if you're going to just stand there, you might as well sit down with us before you embarrass yourself further. You might even redeem yourself." Draco looked oddly defeated, and instead of following his goons out the door, he sat down on the edge of Ron's and Neville's seat by the door, all alone.

"First polite thing you've done all day. Want some candy?" offered Hermione. "We've got some left over from lunch. Someone ordered the whole trolley full…"

"Oi, Hermione, I was just trying to get us to bond," replied Harry.

"You're just going to let him sit there, after he called you a…"

"Yes, I am, because that is his father talking, not him," snapped Hermione. "And I've been called hurtful things before. Being muddy won't change me. I'll just take pride in it, that's all."

"I am too thinking for myself," defended Draco.

"Oh, you speak? Too bad your words are false, your poor mind misguided…"

"I am not misguided. And no Mudblood will take that tone with me!"

"Oh good, you've gained back you're fight. I was worried you wouldn't be able to even talk to me…"

"What do you mean by that, beaver-face?"

"Now moving onto my appearance, hmm? Well you'll have to try harder than that to get to me. But you, Draco, you're easier to get to. I know loads about your family. How they've dabbled in the Dark Arts, how your father served You-Know-Who. And I've even read about you, the latest addition to the Malfoy line."

"Being a snobby know-it-all won't get you far, Mudblood! Books won't get you anywhere in this world. Mark my words, you'll meet a sticky end."

"Ooo, death threats now, you've upped the ante. I suppose if you were serious though, you would have actually attacked me by now. Too bad. And still relying on using Mudblood, hmm? For all I care you could call me 'Muddy' as a nickname, that way it would at least make sense to use it so often…"

"You don't intimidate me!"

"Your face begs to differ! Really, Draco. I know more than you think I do. I know you've been trained to lead this dark route, but you have been deceived. Don't do it. There is still time to change, you haven't even started Hogwarts yet. Just be careful what you do, you may regret it one day…"

"You think you're so smart, Mudblood."

"I don't care if I'm smart," Hermione quipped irritably. "All I care about is getting it through your head that you have a choice in life!"

"How dare you!"

"Yes, I dare I try to give you advice, give us all advice. I assume I'm still meeting a sticky end. Regardless, I think I got it through your thick skull. Choose your friends wisely, Draco."

"You think you know me, but you don't, dumb Mudblood!"

"ENOUGH!" cried out Neville, who couldn't take anymore of it. "GET OUT OF HERE YOU EVIL, SNOT-NOSED FERRET!"

"Neville!" gasped Hermione.

"I mean it, get out of here. If you want to come back, to be friends with Harry, meaning all of us, you should reconsider using foul language and act polite!" bellowed Neville. No one in the car expected this out of the boy, but Draco took this as an exit card and instantly left the cabin. As everyone's attention focused on Draco, Hermione took a chance.

_Accio Scabbers_, she thought, focusing on the bulge in Ron's front pocket. Soon enough, a rat began floating out towards her—she would have him so soon—but then Harry's eyes flickered towards this side of the room—she dropped the spell, and Scabbers fell.

_Rats! I almost had him. Now I'll have to wait to capture him. But why did Harry have to look over here? I really hope he didn't see anything. Probably didn't…_

"Wow, I'm glad someone had the guts to stand up to him, besides Hermione that is," muttered Ron. Neville seemed proud enough. "I can't believe he just kept calling Hermione, well, you-know-what." Ron put his hand up to his pocket. "Where's Scabbers? I swear I put him back in here…"

"He's on the floor, mate," called out Harry.

"That's odd, ya think I would have felt him crawl out," said Ron.

"Probably slipped away from you, just like Trevor did with Neville," suggested Hermione.

_Buy it. Buy it, buy it_, she hoped.

"Hmmm, maybe. Scabbers is sneaky when he wants to be, but most of the time he's asleep," said Ron sagely. "The important thing is he's safe, and Malfoy's gone. You were really great Hermione, talking to him like that. But you really didn't sound like yourself."

"Yeah, Hermione, you sounded so different, like you were older or something," admitted Harry. Neville nodded.

"You think so? I really feel like I channeled a particularly unctuous personality right there. It felt surreal, not like me…" admitted Hermione.

"Oh yeah, it didn't sound like you. Still, you mentioned books," said Ron.

"Yeah, but otherwise, she sounded like a mother, or some old lady" Harry said. Hermione blushed.

"Oh—well—erm—thank you—for the well—the compliment?" replied Hermione. Harry didn't say anything. "And I'm so happy you stood up to Malfoy, Neville!"

"Th-thanks. I just couldn't let him treat you like that, I couldn't."

"You chased him out a little earlier than I had hoped, but like I said, I got the message through. And I hope you all got the message too?"

"Yes we did," muttered Ron.

"What was it then?" asked Hermione. "All of you now!"

"We have a choice in life," they chorused.

"Good, you don't have to do what your parents, Aunt and Uncle, or Gran expect you to…"

"Okay, thanks Mother Hermione. Now can we please just leave behind this mess?" asked Ron.

"Sounds good to me," added Harry.

"Then it's settled. I guess we should get on our robes then, it's getting dark and I'm pretty sure I can see the castle in the distance," said Hermione. She stepped out of the room and waited for them to change and then returned to change into her robes herself. She called the boys back in from the hall where they were mulling.

"I can see the castle in the distance you guys, come look!" she rang out. Ron, Harry, and Neville hurried back in and ran over to the window, where they glued their faces. Nestled in rolling hills and hugged by forests appeared a giant castle with faint lights, soaring flying buttresses, steep towers, and giant stone walls.

"Amazing," Harry said.

"Isn't it?" Hermione added.

"My brothers told me about it, but wow, that's great," said Ron, squinting. "I think we're getting close to the platform now! There's a lake up ahead, and a path in the woods."

"Sounds like it," Hermione agreed.

"R-really? We'll be there that soon?" asked Neville. Before Hermione could answer, a voice rang over the intercom telling them that they would arrive at the station momentarily.

"Seems like it," replied Harry with a grin.

"It looks very pretty, and I think I see some plants I've read about in _Rare Herbs and Shrubs of the Non-Muggle Variety_," remarked Hermione.

"Where?" asked Neville excitedly.

"Right over there, see it?"

"Oh, those are boxing box bushes, looks like they just lost their purple flowers," said Neville.

"Don't remember reading about them," muttered Hermione.

"They bloom for one week in late summer… during that week anyone who comes close to the bus risks the flowers suddenly spurting out and hitting them," replied Neville. "They're in my backyard, I've always found them really interesting…"

"I never knew that! How intriguing," Hermione commented. Neville beamed. The train jerked to a halt.

"When you two are done with your little discussion, I think we should get out of the car and get up to the school," replied Ron.

"He's right, everyone's already leaving their cabins. We should go," added Harry.

"Okay then," said Hermione. Together, the four of them strode out of the hallway, through the excited students. After descending the steps near the head of the train, they found themselves on a warm stone platform and were greeted by the cool night air. Hermione took a deep breath.

_It's good to be back_, she thought.

"He, I know him," said Harry, pointed at an abnormally huge person. "That's Hagrid! He's the gamekeeper here. He gave me my letter."

"Oh isn't that wonderful," said Hermione. Ron gave her a confused look.

"Firs' years over here, the rest of ye take those carriages," Hagrid boomed. Walking down the stairs, Hermione heard the snort of a horse like creature. She peered over her shoulder and stopped.

Instead of seeing a corporeal creature, Hermione saw a faded version. She saw the creatures, but they seemed less vivid than if they were real. They edges weren't sharp at all, everything looked blurred.

_Well, I guess since I haven't actually seen death this time around, I shouldn't be able to really see them. But I guess the fact that I remember seeing death means that I technically have seen it, in a way. The way I've seen it isn't clear though, so neither should my image of the thestrals. Very intriguing,_ thought Hermione. Entranced, she walked over to pet one.

"Hermione—where are you going?" yelled out Ron already far away. He ran towards her, followed by Harry and Neville. She had chosen a small one and was rubbing it softly. "What are you doing, we should be down by the lake!"

"Just give me a moment," replied Hermione. But Ron didn't, he ran in front of her. Instantly, the Thestral moved, distracted by him. The creature turned away from Hermione and reared its head at Ron.

"Ron—no!" cried out Hermione. The thestral's head threw Ron up into the air. For a moment, he stood still in the air, but his body plunged back to earth.

"URG!" he grunted, his arm buckling under his side. Hermione turned pale as she saw something white glint from the end of his arm.

"You've broken your arm! Someone help!" cried out Hermione. The Thestral, however, could care less. It had already licked off dried blood from Ron's one arm and now moved onto the broken arm, cleaning the fresh wound with his tongue."Something's attacking me! I can't see it! It threw me up and now I'm being eaten to death," sobbed Ron, rolling around holding his arm.

"Don't panic," said Harry calmly. "We just need help!"

"IT'S EATING ME! AND NOW IT'STEPPING ON ME!" cried out Ron. The Thestral had placed its foot on Ron's chest. Neville was first into action.

"_Subsisto minima_!" cried out Neville. His wand shook, but did nothing. The Thestral pressed down more and Ron let out a moan.

"Oh no, it could kill him!" said Hermione.

"I can't do anything," replied Harry nervously. "I don't know what's attacking him!"

_I can't do anything, if I use any complicated spell it'll look disastrously wrong that I know advanced magic.. something simple… something simple…_thought Hermione

"SOMEONE HELP ME!" Ron yelled.

"_Conjunctivitis_!" Hermione called out, her wand raised. The Thestral couldn't see anymore; immediately, it shrieked out in pain, stopped licking Ron and started stumbling away from them, unable to see where it was going.

"What just sh-shrieked?" asked Neville. Before Hermione could answer, Hagrid had bounded over to help them.

"Whas wrong?" Hagrid panted.

"I think it's gone," muttered Hermione. Ron moaned.

"Ron, calm down, " asked Harry.

"Calm down, calm down? I COULD HAVE DIED!" Ron bellowed.

"No, but you just got hurt. Mr. Hagrid, can you help him? He's broken his arm" asked Hermione, looking up at the hulking figure.

"Oi, I'll just 'ave yer get to the Hospital Wing, I'll have Filch take the firs' years across the lake. It looks like lil' Nexy got attracted to his blood…" said Hagrid, looking down at Ron and picking him up.

"Oh no, will we be late to the sorting?" cried out Neville.

"Ya might, bu' I thin' it's mo important to help yer friend, righ?" asked Hagrid. "Follow me."

"Right," said Hermione, jogging to keep up with Hagrid. Neville and Harry were in step right behind her.

From that moment on, the Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Neville would be the closest friends. There are some things you can't face together and come through without being friends, and a near death experience was one of them.

A/N: That was a lot of character development, and a ton of dialogue. Not as long as the last chapter, but this one did end up writing itself. I've already begun writing the next chapter, too! Hopefully it'll be out soon. (I think this story has officially become the longest Post-Death Hallows story. It's been less than a week and we're thirty thousand words in! Squeaked in some action at the end… and it's a total parallel to the _Philosopher's Stone_.


	4. Chapter 3: Beautiful World

_Disclaimer_: This is not originally mine nor do I claim it is. It's based off of JK Rowling's _Harry Potter_. Now shoo, let me have my fun!

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"_Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught."_

-Oscar Wilde

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**Chapter 3: Beautiful World**

"I'M GOING TO DIE, I'M GOING TO DIE!" Roan moaned.

Hagrid peered down at the bundle in his arms and barked, "Yer not going to die, yer jus' bleedin' a bit, that's all!"

"I'M GOING TO—"

"SHUT IT!" screamed Hermione. Ron let his moaning fade to murmur. "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DIE, IT'S JUST A BROKEN BONE!" Neville's face blanched. Silence fell, which left Hagrid grumbling.

"Errr...so who're you three? I already know Harry…" said Hagrid conversationally, climbing the steps to the Hospital Wing. Harry, Hermione, and Neville were leaping three at a time just to keep up.

"Well I'm Ron Weasley," the bundle in Hagrid's arms muttered. Hagrid laughed.

_I remember Ron being stronger than this, but that memory is so blurry,_ thought Hermione._ It's like I can almost see the old him, but I can never actually see him. Is my memory fading as it's slowly replaced by new memories like this one?_ Ron let out a shriek of pain. _He's just so…immature._

"Oi, I didn't need you to tell me who yer, then, I could tell by yer hair. Jus' like your brothers," replied Hagrid merrily. From where Hermione was leaping, it looked like Ron turned red. His grumpy murmurs were only punctuated by hurt moans.

_At least some things haven't changed_, _still grumpy, still easily embarrassed_, thought Hermione. _And I'm sure Ron will be fine_. _At least I hope he will be…_ _Better introduce myself to Hagrid, oh I've missed him a lot the past eleven years. If anything's been a constant throughout my life, it's been Hagrid—_

"I'm Hermione Granger, my parents are dentists, and I've known Harry since he was eight," Hermione said loudly.

_There, that should do it. Some background information for him, too_, thought Hermione.

"Harry tol' me about yeh, he did. Said yer the best frien' he's ever had," replied Hagrid. "An' any friend of Harry's a frien' a mine." Hermione blushed.

"I'm Ne-Neville," Neville stammered, panting loudly. "Neville Longbottom!" They were finally at the large, polished wooden doors to the Hospital Wing.

"Knew yer parents! Great bunch of folks!" Hagrid boomed, pushing open the doors to the Hospital Wing. Neville turned red and stuttered.

"'Ello?" said Hagrid. "Anyone in 'ere?"

"Whose there?" inquired an irritated voice. "It can't be that Pomona's already returned with my Woefully Winding Vine Extract… ah, but of course, come to me with a hurt student yet _again_, Hagrid." Madam Pomfrey had appeared from behind a Hospital Wing curtain

"This her' one wasn't my fault! He got hur' by the 'hestrals, Poppe," muttered Hagrid.

"Oh, the Thestrals you shouldn't be keeping here!?" admonished Madam Pomfrey, waving her wand and moving Ron out of Hagrid's arms and lowering him down behind a curtain. "Normal people wouldn't keep those _beasts_."

"It wasn't his faul', he's jus' a lil' one, yer see, it was his first time out pullin' the studen's, and he smelt blood, and they love blood, they do…" Hagrid defended.

"That's right," interjected Hermione. "The Thestral smelled Ron's cut when he over to get me. It's my fault I was so close to them; I didn't mean to cause so much trouble!"

"Don't worry about it, dear," called out Madam Pomfrey. "I'm sure you meant nothing by it. They weren't your Thestrals…"

"Poppy!" chided Hagrid. "I'm sorry, why yeh 'ave to go and 'ammer it in to me?"

"Sorry—it's only the first night of the term and we already have injuries—not a good omen!" Madam Pomfrey replied huffily. She sighed. "I'll lay off you. Just make sure it doesn't happen again. I know that Thestrals are the least of our worries this year… Now I'm sure they're missing you at the Welcoming Feast, Hagrid, so head right down," instructed Madam Pomfrey.

"I thought I'd wait with the students, yeh see…" replied Hagrid.

"Oh all right, just let me mend this one's arm. What's your name dear? Ah, Mr. Weasley! I've already had the pleasure of meeting many of your brothers... Pleased to meet you, I'm Madam Poppy Pomfrey, the school Healer. It's a shame that we couldn't have a met on better terms though…Now it's simple really, all it will take…"said Madam Pomfrey.

"OW!" shouted Ron.

"There, it's mended, Mr. Weasley. Now I'll need to fix up the skin—and you should be able to fully move your arm again! Hmmm, maybe some Blood Replenishing Potion wouldn't be amiss with you either? There you go, drink it down, I know it tastes bad, but drink all of it." Madam Pomfrey instructed, pausing only when Ron groaned loudly about how bad the potion was.

"I'm afraid most medicinal potions taste quite bad. It seems to be an inherent trait of the healing properties," she chatted. "Now that you've got that down, let's clean you up. Then you'll be ready to get to your first Welcoming Feast. But before you leave..." said Madam Pomfrey, coming out from behind the curtain with Ron. "I want to give you all Pepper up potions. You all look pale as ghosts, and I mean that."

"Ok-k-kay!" stammered Neville. Madam Pomfrey tsked at them and forced small wooden cups into all of their hands.

"Aren't pepper-up potions for curing colds?" asked Hermione, eying the clear bright purple potion reluctantly. She thought a cheering charm would be much more appropriate in this situation.

"Ah, someone who knows their potions!" said Madam Pomfrey enthusiastically. "Yes, the Pepper-Up Potion is the most common cold remedy, but it does so through helping your emotions, thereby supplementing its defenses. In other words, it'll help cheer you up, too. I think you need some soulful happiness, so drink up." Hermione nodded her head in understanding and gulped down the drink. It tasted very, well, peppery, with a hint of citrus.

"That's good," remarked Harry after drinking his.

"Yes, it's one of the better tasting potions," nodded Madam Pomfrey. "Now all of you go, I don't want you to miss your own Sorting. Shoo! And don't be back soon!"

"Yes ma'am!" replied Ron, walking right out the door. Hagrid led them through the castle to the Great Hall.

"Now just file to the back of the line as quiet as yer all can, got it?" instructed Hagrid. The four of them nodded very vigorously, clearly energized by the Pepper-Up Potion."Okay, now I'm headin' straigh' up to the heads table, but yer see the line of firs' years, tha's for yer. I won' be seein' yer fer a whil', but yeh free to visit me, yeh hear?"

"Yes, we got it, now go," replied Hermione. Hagrid nodded, and slowly pushed the giant doors open. He was moving the door quietly until, all of the sudden, the door began to—

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK!

"Oh! Well, better keep going at these here things then to stop!" whispered Hagrid, the door finally open far enough to filter in. "Now head in yer guys. Be seein' yer."

Hagrid swept by them and strode up the side of the hall towards the heads table. With him as a distraction, the four first years silently snuck up to the line near the front of the room headed by Professor McGonagall. It looked as though despite that loud door, they would make it there without incident, until—

"Ow Neville, that's my foot," cried out Ron, backing up.

"Ow Ron, that's _my_ foot," yelped Harry.

"Well we almost made it in without being noticed until you two opened your huge traps," snapped Hermione. Everyone in the Great Hall was staring at them.

"Get in line, all of you!" called out McGonagall harshly. "You're lucky I can't take points from you yet."

Somewhat crestfallen, Hermione led Neville, Harry and Ron right to the back of the pack of first years.

"Whose that?" whispered Ron, pointing to McGonagall.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall," answered Hermione with admiration in her voice. "Current Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House, Transfiguration Professor, Animagus, and Transfiguration _master_."

"You sure know your stuff," mumbled Neville.

"It's all in _Hogwarts, A History_. It self-updates the catalogue of teachers. explains things like the enchanted ceiling above us—"Hermione was cut off by a reprimanding glare from McGonagall.

"Kevin Entwhistle!" called out Professor McGonagall, her voice loud and clear. A small, brown-headed boy who wore an air of confidence strode up to the stool with the Sorting Hat on it and plopped it on his head. The reaction was instant.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat roared, its voice tattered with age. The boy didn't miss a beat and ran over to his table, sitting near the end.

Hermione heard Celes Falstaff next; she flew over to Gryffindor where she was met by mild applause. Someone called Robin Fenton followed her up to the stool; he ended up in Hufflepuff.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley!" McGonagall cried out. There was an arrogance about him that irked Hermione greatly. His chin held haughtily high, his curls falling on his face with almost planned precision...

"HUFFLEPUFF!" rang out the hat. Justin appeared ecstatic with the Sorting Hat's decision, wearing a confident grin as he strutted off to Hufflepuff.

"Seamus Finnigan!" Hermione watched a much younger and less secure Seamus scurry up to the stool. It took about fifteen seconds, but the hat came to a verdict.

"Gryffindor!" it roared. Anthony Goldstein and Isabel Gonzalo both were sorted into Ravenclaw. Then Goyle came next, and he was immediately placed in Slytherin. And that meant—

"Hermione Granger!" McGonagall read off the parchment.

Hermione took a deep breath, gave Harry's hand a squeeze and let go. She took a step out from the line and turning on her foot, nervously waltzed up to the stool. As Hermione passed a tall, intimidating shadow, she peered up at McGonagall to see the normally stern professor smiling down at her.

_McGonagall? Smiling? It is small, but still, it's just nice her finally happy with me,_ Hermione thought merrily. She sat down on the stool. McGonagall strode over and put the hat on Hermione's head.

"_Hmm, very interesting_," whispered the Sorting Hat. "_Ho-oh, I've only had the pleasure of sorting a select few like you, Ms. Granger. But you personally, I believe I've sorted too many times to count, is that right? Now, I've placed you in all of the houses, but where should I place you now…hmmm."_

"_What do you mean? How do you know how many times you sorted me?"_ Hermione asked.

"_I can see straight into your memories, Ms. Granger. Straight through them to the other side. And I know you've seen things you shouldn't…"_

"_But I don't remember being sorted into different houses. All I have knowledge of is living one hundred lives, and I know in my last life I was a Gryffinfor," _Hermione pointed out.

"_You are very bright, bright indeed…"_answered the sorting hat.

"_You're avoiding the question_."

"_There's also the fact that the Laws have told me about you_," replied the hat conversationally.

"_Wait, how do you know the Laws_?" asked Hermione.

"_We keep in touch. I was one after all, which makes us something like cousins," _replied that Hat.

"_You were a Law? But how, how did you get here?"_

"_Laws are always changing in order to keep up with an ever changing world. Sometimes we can't change enough and become out-dated, which is how we age. I appeared to Godric on my last mission of Destiny, and he came up with the brilliant idea of letting me become a hat. It was a tricky bit of magic, but it worked. I'm the Sorting Hat here today_," said the hat.

"_Why didn't you age into nothingness_," asked Hermione. "_I assume that's what would happen to you, after visiting that place myself…"_

"_You assume correctly… I didn't 'pass on'_ _because I wasn't prepared to cease my existence. Death is the next great adventure for some, for the truly prepared, as Dumbledore says, but for me, I'm afraid, I wasn't prepared, and I felt I had more left to do. What better place to serve than as a hat perched in one of the most powerful magical positions in the world, where news constantly flows!_ _Not only can I influence what the Headmaster does in times of need, but I also decide the fates of generation after generation_, _choosing the path best for them_," the hat said sagely.

"_Very interesting, so you can still contact the Laws though?"_

"_Yes. They say hi, by the way. And that you should be extraordinarily careful that you don't meddle too much, otherwise unforeseen problems may come your way. "_

"_Is that all they say? How vague."_

"_Intelligence adds that the cogs are already in motion for one disaster, be careful you don't ruin the world."_

"_How nice of him!"_

_Oh, Guidance told me to tell you that Likeness is singing "Hermione Granger, keep trying," sort of like a hymn._

"_Great! This all sounds very eerie. And their warnings are somewhat ambiguous, although I think the meddling remark is straightforward. I'll have to limit my meddlesome actions, then…. And I know is something bad's coming, no matter what I do…. But does Likeness singing 'Keep Trying' mean anything? The literal meaning, would be of course, to never give up. Maybe there's something deeply meaningful in that. What do you think?"_

"_Don't ask me…"_

"_Ugh! Big help you are!"_

"_That's neither here nor there, Ms. Granger. Now that you've had a little reunion,"_ drawled the hat, "_do you mind if I complete my job?"_

"_Not at all_," replied Hermione. "_I'm sure everyone's wondering what's taking so long_." She looked around the room to see that people were beginning to whisper and murmur, the low roar growing louder.

"_It's clear to me where I should place you, then."_

"RA—"

Hermione grabbed the hat's open rip and shut it up.

"_Oh no you don't, I know that my courage exceeds my wit, unbelievably, and you cannot deny it. You won't put me into Ravenclaw, you won't_!" Hermione screamed in her head. She felt like a little toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

"_But in our little chat, you have demonstrated that you possess a mind of such great intellect that Rowena would want to teach you herself. I didn't even have to dig into your memories to see that!_ "replied the hat. Hermione thought this over.

"_That also means that you have to consider that I had the courage to stand up to someone who holds my destiny in his hands, err, brim_. _And it took courage to get me here…_ _That is a trait Godric would have adored, right?"_

"_Oh very good, very good. But your doing that just proves that you've got quite the wit. You're trying to outsmart me, you are…"_

"_Or that I'm sly, but that would make me Slytherin then, wouldn't it? And I had to work hard to figure it out, so that makes me Hufflepuff like."_

"_Yes that's all true, but_—"

"_Just shut it. I'm courageous and that's that. Put me in Gryffindor."_

"_But I sincerely believe that you will flourish in another house."_

"_This is my destiny and I want to be in Gryffindor."_

"_Fine, don't listen to me, choose what you think is right when it's been wrong so often_!" snapped the hat.

"_Just because it's been wrong doesn't mean it's not right for me. I know it's right_, _And your argument doesn't work with me; if I've been sorted into every house, each of them has been wrong for me, I've never fulfilled my destiny. Just trust me. It's Gryffindor_," replied Hermione.

"_But you've failed the most in Gryffindor_," spat the hat irritably.

"_That's only because you've put me in it the most, which also should mean I'm most suited for it."_

"_But maybe something else would be best."_

"_No, I'm a Gryffindor through and through. Now put me there."_

"_Fine then_," conceded the hat bitterly.

"GRYFFINDOR!" he rang out, ending five minutes of silence. The table on the far right of the Great Hall burst out in applause, and Hermione saw some Ravenclaw people look quite disappointed, apparently sure she would be a great addition to their house. Hermione beamed and looked up at the starry enchanted sky, taking a deep breath. She plopped down at the Gryffindor table right near Fred and George.

"That took a long time, that did," commented Fred.

"What was the hold-up, Hermione?" asked George.

"That's confidential information," replied Hermione, bristling. Fred opened his mouth to say something, but McGonagall's voice rang out before he could.

A slurry of people were sorted: Daphne Greengrass went to Slytherin, Wayne Hopkins made Hufflepuff along with Terra Ito, Elizabeth Jiang sat down near Hermione at Gryffindor, Megan Jones shuffled over to Hufflepuff, Karen Kahn joined Greengrass at Slytherin, Su Li dashed off to Ravenclaw, and finally, after all of them, came Neville Longbottom.

The hat took about a minute before it rang out "GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville, clearly shaking with nerves, scurried over and sat right next to Hermione.

"Welcome to Gryffindor," Hermione greeted. "Why are you shaking? Are you nervous?"

"I was so worried I wouldn't be here," Neville revealed. "My gran would be so disappointed in me if I didn't make it here. Both my p-parents were Gryffindors."

"I think everything will work out, don't you? It already had for you," Hermione stated.

"Hopefully! Harry's brave, he should be put here, and Ron's family went to Gryffindor, too," replied Neville.

"True," Hermione said. "It would be great if we were all together in the end."

"I just knew everyone would be coming here, and I didn't know if I was brave enough! The hat almost put me in Hufflepuff!" whispered Neville.

"He almost put me in Ravenclaw," confessed Hermione. "Don't worry about, I'm not. The important thing is we're here, and that means we are brave and that we are suited to be Gryffindors. Right?"

"Right," nodded Neville.

"Now let's just cross out fingers and hope for the best," said Hermione.

"Yeah, that sounds g-good!" agreed Neville. Sensing an opportunity, Hermione introduced Neville to the girl sitting beside him.

"Neville, this is Elizabeth Jiang, Elizabeth, this is Neville Longbottom," Hermione said. The two looked at each other and both blushed shyly. Elizabeth rapidly glanced around, revealing just how awkward she felt at the moment. She bit down on her long, black hair, unsure what to do. Neville, however, was not nearly as nervous and began a murmuring conversation with her that continued for quite a while.

Hermione abstained from these pleasantries, and instead, she waited and listened to the rest of the sortings. The one that was a real surprise was Draco Malfoy's. He had been sitting under the Sorting Hat, fuming in rage, when the hat finally barked out—

"RA—"

But no sooner than the hat had uttered the first syllable that Malfoy grabbed the hat to shut it up, much as Hermione had done. If Draco was angry before the hat's move, it was nothing compared to his vehemence afterwards. It took a minute, but the hat finally gave in.

"Slytherin," the Sorting Hat announced feebly, sounding every year of its age.

"Can't say I didn't expect that, although it sounded for a second like Malfoy was going to another house," muttered Hermione.

"Yeah, it m-makes sense for him to b-be in Slytherin, though," replied Neville.

"Do you two know him or something?" Elizabeth Jiang asked, her eyes glinting with interest.

"Well—sort of—" answered Hermione. "We met on the train, and it wasn't exactly pretty…"

"But we told him off for c-calling Hermione a M-Mudblood!" Neville added.

"What's a Mudblood?" asked Elizabeth bemusedly.

"Are you Muggleborn, Elizabeth?" inquired Hermione.

"Call me Liz—no, I'm pureblood, it's just my family is a bit strange, I've been home-schooled my whole life, barely seen anyone else, I have a really tightly knit family. It's nice how we live, we don't even get Wizarding news, and I've never really had many friends… I was so anxious to come to Hogwarts and finally meet some people. My parents just do research isolated in the country, which they then publish in journals. It pays the bills, but I never get to see anyone! At least they've invented pretty neat stuff."

"Oh that's nice. So I guess you've been shielded from the racist blood maniacs," bit Hermione.

"What!?" Elizabeth asked, surprised at Hermione's outburst.

"They're the ones who use Mudblood. It's a term to describe someone whose blood is of low or mud-like quality, namely Muggleborns. It's a very nasty thing to say," replied Hermione.

"That's why w-we couldn't believe M-Malfoy used it so much," replied Neville. "He spread the w-word in conversation like you would mulch on a Snapping Crabgrass garden!"

"A what?" asked Elizabeth.

"It's a common wizarding weed. But still, I'm just so mad at him for using mu—that word!" said Neville with conviction. Elizabeth's eyes lit up, blazing brightly.

"I can't believe someone would do that," said Elizabeth. "Are you sure that's what it meant, that's what he meant?"

"Yes," chorused Hermione and Neville. Elizabeth's face reddened with anger, but she remained quiet.

"Harry Potter!" McGonagall's voice announced. The mutterings in the Great Hall stopped, everyone's attention focused on one small boy with a distinguishing scar.

Harry sat underneath the hat, looking deep in thought. Nothing happened. All Hermione could hear was heavy breathing, people wrecked with anticipation.

As the minutes passed by, everyone grew more and more tense. The teachers at the head table looked as though they didn't know what to expect. Indeed, even Albus Dumbledore had a bemused expression, his eyes twinkling in a haphazard manner.

Finally, the hat opened its brim, ready to speak. Everyone in the hall was on the edge of their seat, this could decide so much in Harry's life, and it all came down to—

The Sorting Hat closing its brim to deliberate for another few minutes. Everyone sighed and waited, still quite on edge. Hermione heard quite a few people biting their nails, and she saw a number of others losing interest in the Sorting. She herself had taken to looking at the teachers. Most of them were watching Harry with bated breath, but one in particular seemed to be avoiding the situation altogether.

_It looks as though Snape isn't even recognizing that Harry exists! Well that may work now, but he'll have to notice him in Potions class. You just can't glance him over and never give him instruction… But maybe Harry looking like Lily is too much for Snape. Hmmm, we'll have to wait and see. For now, he looks quite interested in the enchanted ceiling. Oooo, there's a sneer, there's the Snape I know_, thought Hermione. _How odd he's_— But then a voice jutted her out of her thoughts.

She heard the Sorting Hat yell, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Despite only one table applauding the selection, the clapping filled the entire Great Hall. Harry appeared quite uncomfortable at the center of attention, but Hermione didn't notice, she was still examining Snape.

_He's not even applauding! Still sneering by the looks of it, talking to Professor Sinistra. Severus Snape, you are one obstinate man_! thought Hermione.

Harry approached the Gryffindor table, in a lost daze. He was unsure where to sit, and edged towards a group of seventh years, apparently eager to get out of the spotlight.

"Harry, down here!" beckoned Hermione, waving him down to her. He looked up and spotted her.

"Nice to see you here," greeted Hermione as Harry sat down.

"It's s-so l-lucky that w-we're in the same house!" replied Neville.

"I don't think luck has anything to do with it!" inserted Hermione. "I think it's because we're all Gryffindors, through and through."

"Bu the hat tried to put me in Slytherin," replied Harry.

"Tried to put m-me in H-Hufflepuff!" Neville mumbled.

"And it tried to put me in Ravenclaw. But we're here now—"

"Not all of us," interrupted Harry. "What about Ron?"

"Oh he'll be here, just you see!" snapped Hermione.

"How do you know?" asked Harry.

"B-because he's b-brave, and his f-family's all b-been here," Neville answered for her. Harry looked at Hermione for confirmation, and she nodded.

"We'll see," muttered Harry, waiting for Ron's name to be called. It took a while, but finally, when only two students were left standing, McGonagall called Ron' name. The Sorting Hat took thirty seconds, but huffily shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and Ron came running over, greeted by his three friends.

"Barmy hat tried to put me in all of the other houses before Gryffindor," whispered Ron. "But I told him my whole family was there, and so were my new friends, and I wasn't about to be put into another house."

"That's odd, I've always thought of you as a Gryffindor, through and through," replied Hermione.

"Always?" asked Harry. Hermione blushed.

"I meant that Ron just seems like the brave sort, the typical Gryffindor!" replied Hermione, gaining back confidence. "What I want to know is how your Sorting was so quick when the hat tried to put you into all of the houses."

"Ay, it was, but that's only because I cut him off each time, yeah? I wouldn't settle for anything less than Gryffindor! He seemed to get the message after I yelled at him, in a manner of speaking. Still, barmy hat didn't put up too much of a fight, said he was tired from arguing."

"Has the hat ever been tired before?" asked Hermione, loud enough so that the twins could hear her.

"Not that I know of. Usually he's quite energetic—" answered George.

"You should have heard his song!" replied Fred.

"Quite a feisty one, the hat is!"

"But we understand why you lot missed it,"

"Had a good reason—"

"Very good, indeed—"

"We've already heard about your little escapade, Ronniekins,"

"A group of third years witnessed the whole thing."

"And rumors travel like Fiendfyre—"

"Up and down house tables like that" said Fred, snapping his fingers for affect.

"And right proud we were when the rumor reached us, but we knew it wasn't a normal rumor—"

"Ay, Ron making trouble on his first night at Hogwarts was too farfetched not to be true."

"It wasn't like that at all," bit Hermione. "He was trying to prevent trouble by getting me to go on the boats."

"Sure," answered Fred.

"Likely story," added George. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Save it for later, it's nice having them lay off me for once," Ron whispered to Hermione. "And besides, Dumbledore's talking!"

"May I welcome you all to yet another wonderful year at Hogwarts. I don't want to keep you from eating, I'm sure you're all quite famished, but before I do, a few words: ruckus, crystal, quiver, clip, zither!

"Tuck in!"

Where an empty, polished wooden table had resided seconds before, golden plates popped into existence, stacked high with every sort of food. A load groan came from the table, buckling under the extra weight.

"I don't think I've ever seen so much food before!" exclaimed Harry, piling his plate high with potatoes, gravy, rolls, and roast beef. Hermione watched on as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, otherwise known as Nearly Headless Nick, glided up the table towards the first years. Just about when he was going to show them how he could be nearly headless, Hermione turned away. Rolling her eyes.

_They are so immature, enjoying that,_ thought Hermione, biting into some salad.

Sure enough, the rest of the first years were in awe of the view of Nick's head hanging on by a small piece of ghostly flesh.

"Wicked," replied Ron.

"I don't think it's very wicked at all, and I'd think Sir Nicholas would agree with me, right?" Hermione snapped.

"Of course, Miss—"

"Granger. Hermione Granger. I'm a Muggleborn; you've probably never heard of my last name before," introduced Hermione. Nick nodded, engaging her in conversation. He only left her when a large sob broke out from a few seats down.

"Oi, wha's tha'?" asked Ron, steak sticking out of his mouth.

"Swallow before you talk, that's disgusting," chided Hermione. She watched Neville wipe some spittle off of his face.

"What was that," asked Ron again. Hermione had no idea.

"Celes!" Hermione called out. "Celes! Celes Falstaff!"

Finally, the girl with rich brown skin and beautiful matching hair answered.

"Yes?" she snapped.

"Whose sobbing?" asked Hermione.

"It's Liz. She won't say what upset her, and she can't stop crying," whispered Celes, her hair falling in front of her face. Liz's sobs reached a crescendo. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, already hitting it off like the best of friends, were sitting a few places down. Their constant chatter halted for a moment as they gazed it Liz. It looked like they unsure what to make of Liz, with little idea of what to do to help of her. Instead of doing anything, they both ignored her and started right back at where they left off.

Liz started sobbing harder and pushed away her food abruptly.

"Do something!" instructed Hermione.

"What do you want me to do? Why don't you do something, Ms. I-know-what-to-do!" bit Celes.

"Because I'm not the one sitting next to her," replied Hermione. Celes mulled over this, then turned her back on Hermione, ignoring her.

_At least she's trying to console poor Elizabeth. I can't believe she's already broken out in tears_.

As she finished her conversation about Defense with the twins, a subject they particularly relished, Hermione heard a goblet of pumpkin juice fall over.

"Why can't you just accept the pumpkin juice! I was just trying to be nice, but you have to be too tied up in yourself to accept that. Well let me tell you something, you're the only one crying here. Really, do have an ounce of dignity? Toughen up and stop," Celes bit angrily, her hair waving wildly. Liz buried her face in her hands and ran out of the room. Hermione sighed.

Celes picked up her goblet, chugged its contents, and slammed it on the table.

"I guess I should go and help her find her way back here," said Hermione. "Where does she think she's going? We don't even know our way around the castle yet." Neville and Harry shrugged.

"No, don't worry about it. I made her leave, I'll go see to her. But really, how can she be crying?" mumbled Celes, walking out of the Great Hall.

Hermione had had enough dessert for one day on the train, so when the image of decadence popped up in front of her, her face turned green. She couldn't possibly eat any of it, and looked on with wide, terrified eyes as Ron stuffed his face.

Finally, the desserts were gone, and the tables were left just as empty as the students had found them. But before the students left the hall, Dumbledore gave them a few words of warning. Hermione listened as he warned about the Forbidden Forest, not using magic in the corridors in between classes, something about Quidditch, and then Dumbledore's jovial tone shifted—

"And all of those wishing to remain alive and well should avoid the third-floor corridor on the right side of the school. I must repeat: it is out of bounds. I must implore you to avoid it.

"And now let us sing a rousing tune of the Hogwart's song. Everyone choose a melody, and off we go!" Dumbledore sang, waving his wand. Beautiful golden letters appeared in front of the heads table, and everyone began to sing.

Hermione decided to sing to the melody of one of her favorite sweeping ballads. It hadn't been written yet, but that didn't bother Hermione at all. Ad-libbing here and there, drawing out the lines into epic sounds of sorrow, Hermione was the third to last to finish, ahead of only the Weasley twins. She received mild applause for her finale, but the true clapping came as Dumbledore finished conducting the Weasley twins.

"Didn't know you could sing that well," whispered Harry, clearly impressed. "It was very pretty."

"I didn't know I could, either," admitted Hermione.

"Magical music! I would hope everyone can grasp its truly wonderful power over the human condition. Now everyone off to bed! We all have a full day ahead of us tomorrow," Dumbledore said.

Hermione followed the group of first years led by Percy up to the Fat Lady. They ran into the pair of Liz and Celes on their way up. The two were apparently lost and both looked close to tears. Thankfully, however, neither was crying, and as soon as they rejoined the group, their spirits lifted.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked Percy.

"Listen carefully," Percy instructed. "You'll need this to get into the common room. Desenternia dementia!"

"Right you are," replied the Fat Lady, her portrait swinging open.

"Now all of you get to bed. If I catch one of you awake after an hour…" threatened Percy. Hermione didn't need to listen though; she ran upstairs, eager to write her mother about her exciting day. Crookshanks greeted her with a purr as she sat down and began her detailing her lengthy tale.

* * *

Hermione and the boys met in the common room (Harry, Ron, and Neville were yawning widely, apparently having stayed up until three playing a rousing game of Exploding Snap) and strode off to the Great Hall for breakfast. Hermione had expertly not taken Peeves advice, avoiding a series of stairs the Poltergeist claimed would have taken them straight to the hall.

Even without that detour, the group arrived late to breakfast, with only a few seats left open at Gryffindor table. Luckily, Hermione found their already familiar end of the table and sat down.

"I think I'll have a light breakfast after last night's feast. I really shouldn't have had a second helping," said Hermione, biting into a piece of toast with marmalade.

"Rubbish, you need a full breakfast to get ready for the day," replied Ron, stacking his plate with bacon, sausage, toast, and hash browns.

_I whipped Ron into shape years ago, it's so strange seeing him eat so messily and with so little care. Hmph, he's got a long way to go if he's ever going to be like how I remember_, thought Hermione.

As Hermione washed down a small portion of warm scrambled eggs with some Pumpkin juice, Professor McGonagall approached them with their schedules.

"These are your schedules," she said handing them to the first years. "Each class is around 50 minutes, unless it is listed twice in a row, which then means it is a double-period or approximately 1 hour and 50 minutes. You will see each of the classes has its room listed underneath it… and be aware you have ten minutes in between classes. I suggest you scope out the castle and head to classes early; we don't want any of you to be late your first day," instructed McGonagall. Neville crumpled under her stern gaze.

"I'll expect you in my class promptly at nine this morning," added McGonagall before moving onto the next group of students. Neville gulped.

"Blimey, she's stern," remarked Ron.

"She just wants to abide by the rules. I can understand that," said Hermione.

"I'm scarred of her!"

"Scarred? Do you mean scared?"

"Blimey Neville, you really must be scared, you look nervous…"

"I am!" replied Neville, his voice shaking.

"Don't be. She seems strict, but I'm sure she's kind if you get to know her," consoled Hermione.

"Really?"

"And besides, you should be more worried about the Potions teacher, Severus Snape, than her," added Hermione. Neville paled. "I'm kidding! But really, just be careful around him. And be confident." Neville nodded.

"Yeah, he's head of Slytherin house, I would be wary of him," chimed in Ron.

"What did I tell you about judging people solely based on their house?" chided Hermione.

"Ugh Hermione, I've told you a million times: he's a slimy git according to Fred and George. And he just didn't get put in Slytherin on pure chance."

"Being Slytherin doesn't necessarily make him bad! He just is bad…" said Hermione.

"Let's just wait and see for ourselves," Harry said, ending the conversation.

"If we're all done here, I think we should get going to Transfiguration," suggested Hermione. "We have it first, and McGonagall suggested that we try to get here early."

"Oi, just let me finish this sausage," pleaded Ron.

"Come on, just stop eating. Hermione's right, it's time we shove off," Harry said. Ron grimaced and swallowed the sausage before following Hermione out of the Great Hall and through the school. Harry started grumbling as they passed giggling gaggles of girls.

"I really hate everyone murmuring about 'Harry Potter.' I don't even know who he is, and I'm him. What right to they have to create some persona that I don't even get," ranted Harry as the passed a group of whispering Hufflepuffs.

"You're absolutely right. I wouldn't want them to be doing that to me," Hermione said soothingly.

"Me neither!" added Neville.

"But you have to understand just how famous you are. It's only natural for these kids to be gossiping over you when you're one of the first famous people that's ever graced their presence," replied Hermione.

"I guess, it's just annoying, that's all," conceded Harry.

"I don't think it'd be annoying, getting all that attention. All that ever happens to me is being ignored," mumbled Ron.

"There's such a thing as too much popularity," argued Hermione, although Ron didn't listen. What did it matter, anyway, they had just reached the classroom, where Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk reading a thick, dusty tome.

"It's nice to see that someone took my advice," McGonagall remarked as Hermione forced Neville, Harry and Ron into seats in the front row.

"Hermione forced us here," mumbled Ron.

"Did not! Harry agreed with me!" argued Hermione. McGonagall's lips pursed and she went back to reading as the students in front of her continued to bicker.

Finally, it was nine o'clock—time for class to being. McGonagall quickly called role.

"Now that we're done with the pleasantries," said McGonagall, laying the piece of parchment on her desk, "I must warn you that Transfiguration is a very difficult branch of magic that requires a high level of concentration. Anything less than your best effort will not be tolerated. No horseplay will be accepted in my classroom and anyone acting out will be punished immediately with detention. And I expect everyone's attention and respect when I speak, Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall. Ron, who had been whispering something to Harry, turned red and stopped.

"Now, since I doubt any of you have had a formal introduction to this subject, let alone read the textbook, I would like to start with something elementary. Can anyone tell me what one of the simplest branches of Transfiguration is? Anyone?" Hermione raised her hand. "Yes, Ms. Granger."

"Arguably one of the simplest modes of Transfiguration, _Monomatara_ is the Transfiguration of an object into a different shape of the same material. There is a further simplification: the branch of this branch that I assume we will be focusing on is _Simplens Monomatara_, more commonly known as same material, similar shape Transfiguration," replied Hermione effortlessly. She had done a bit of refresher reading over the summer, engulfing her first year textbooks.

"Excellent description. Five points to Gryffindor. I hope everyone is taking notes on this," said McGonagall. "Now, the important part of Transfiguration at this level is _focus_. Incantations and wandwork will only come to you when you have first mastered focus. I am going to hand out paperclips, and I would like all of you to start to focus on the paperclip becoming a pin. When you feel confident, attempt the Transfiguration." She handed out the paperclips quickly.

"Now, when you have your focus, you will move your wand like so," McGonagall instructed, giving her wand a tight swish in circle.

"Now try it yourselves. Wands out! One, two three!" McGonagall called out. The instant students started waving wands, her lips pursed. She began moving all over the room, correcting the mistaken wand movements. Hermione however, was fairly sure she remembered this wand movement, and with focus, she attempted the Transfiguration.

_A tight swish, metal to converge into a line that meets in point… there_, thought Hermione, looking proudly down at her new pin. It took only a few seconds for McGonagall to stride over to her. The look on her face was one of pleasure and of deep thought.

"Would you try changing this piece of paper into a small, metal box for me?" McGonagall asked, placing blank parchment onto the desk. Hermione had expected points, or something of praise, not another test.

_That's third year level_, thought Hermione. _I don't want to expose myself, but she wants me to try, and she'll know if I don't, what do I do? _Hermione bit her lip.

She waved her wand, focusing hard on the piece of parchment in front of her. She heard a crinkle, but nothing else happened.

Professor McGonagall looked like she had just been denied a real treat, her lips pursed very tightly.

_Phew, that was a close call, but it's also troubling that I can't complete simple Transfiguration. Looks like I still have my work cut out for me here, I am a bit rusty with my wandwork. But I guess that's to be expected after years independent of a wand. I'll have to explore my academic memories a bit too, I think they're pretty much in tact, which should give me some independent study time once I get the basics back down. A little bit of review never hurt anyone._

"Well, it was too much to expect you to be able to something well beyond your years so soon. However, with some more training, I think you'll be doing just fine," said McGonagall, peering at Hermione over her glasses. McGonagall flashed her a brief smile before moving onto police the rest of the class. Hermione didn't get cocky though, and continued to work hard, creating quite the stack of pins in front of her much to Ron's chagrin.

"Ms. Patil, no, your pin should not have melted. You have to get a complete pin for it to receive full credit, and Ms. Falstaff, what did you do to your paperclip?" asked McGonagall, pointing down at a charred mess.

"I—transfigured it?" Celes replied, her skin glowing. Liz giggled at her, and Celes shot her a glare, whipping her hair around. Liz shut right up.

"That is not Transfiguration!" chided McGonagall. "Go up to my desk and get a pin. Make sure it doesn't happen again. Next time I will not hesitate to deduct points!"

_It's good to be back_, thought Hermione, smiling as she began to explain to Harry, Ron and Neville the subtleties of the Transfiguration.

* * *

An hour later, Hermione found herself sitting in a musty, old room, listening to quivering Professor Quirrell talk about his experience in Egypt with 'M-m-mummies'. The tale was hardly interesting and far from useful; Hermione looked around to see Harry doodling and Neville daydreaming about something. She didn't even have to look at Ron, she heard his steady snores.

Had they all listened to her and gone to the library during their free period, they would not have been bored stiff out of their minds now. Hermione would have been able to actually introduce something to them so that they'd actually be learning defense. They really needed instruction outside of this trash. But no, they had all overruled her, and she tagged along to the common room. They keep telling her that they would have a great time back there, but they ended up just lying around the whole time, too tired to do anything. Hermione wasn't bitter, not at _all_.

Despite being bored stiff, she listened to Quirrell's monotonous, scared speech, taking notes on how to identify mummies (which Hermione thought were dreadfully inaccurate, but she'd have to check the book to make sure). Her memories reminded her that time and time again Harry and Ron had needed her notes; she knew they'd thank her for them this time.

Hermione did get a short visit to the library in during lunch, but it was just that: short. Ron acted like a little child tagging along on a shopping trip to Diagon Alley, constantly asking if they were done yet, and remarking on how nice and sunny it was outside. Hermione rolled her eyes and gave in. But when they had made it outside, it was too rainy to do anything. The clouds had swept over the landscape, bringing autumn rains with them. Bitter, Ron stormed off to their next class: Potions.

Hermione had led Harry into the front row of the classroom and placed Ron and Neville right behind her, out of Snape's direct fire, but close enough to herself so that she could help them. Looking to her left, Hermione noticed Harry giving her a quizzical look. Apparently, he had noticed her strategic planning, but he kept his mouth shut as the candles in the room dimmed, giving the dungeons a particularly gloomy appearance.

Like a bat, Severus Snape flew into the room, gracefully maneuvering to the front without a sound. As he turned around on his heel at the front, his robes created such a breeze that a few of the candles in the room extinguished, plunging the room into further darkness, just as Snape liked it.

_How theatrical_, thought Hermione. _It's a great intimidation tactic, that's for sure. Now I just have to wait for him…_

Snape scowled at the Gryffindors in the class, his eyes sweeping their side of the room, but ignoring the Slytherins. Slowly, his eyes moved forward, until they were focused on the front row, where Harry innocently sat.

The effect was immediate: Snape's eyes widened in shock, his face performed the impossible and paled further, and he swayed on the spot ever so slightly. For the untrained eye, this would apparently just be a teacher shaking on their feet on the first day back on the job. But for Hermione, it was success.

In a moment, any trace of emotion fled Snape's face, and he stood in the front of the room, towering over the first years. He had regained his intimidating gaze.

"Potions is subtle science. Many of you will never come close to grasping its subtleties, but I daresay some of you may come to comprehend the beauty of the art. If you aren't as big of a group dunderheads as I normally teach, I can teach you to manipulate luck, catalyze love, brew intellect, and even put a stopper on death," said Snape. "However, it would appear as though some of you already think you are above this."

He was looking right down at Harry.

_Harry's not ignoring you, he's just not looking you dead in the eye, ah here he goes_, thought Hermione. Harry looked up, his green eyes glowing the in candlelight. Snape sneered.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, where would I find a bezoar," asked Snape.

_There's no way Harry knows that_, thought Hermione angrily.

"In the stomach of a goat," replied Harry quite easily.

_How does he know_, thought Hermione, surprised. But she was also quite excited for this meant Harry had a fighting chance.

"And what does it do?"

"It acts as base for antidotes and can act as an antidote itself," Harry said.

_Close enough, hope it's good enough for Snape…_

"And what is it made out of?"

"It's a hairball of stone-like consistency," said Harry. Snape's smirk dissipated.

_Yes_!

"And where would I find Bellus Belladonna?"

"In the tropical forests of Indonesia. It blooms at the full moon," replied Harry.

_Perfect_!

"Where does _Popus turbatio_ come from?"

_That's fifth year level ingredient_, gasped Hermione. _I think I remember what it is, but I'm not certain..._

"I'm not sure, but it might be from the purple pink poppy, the only known magical variety of the common Muggle flower," replied Harry.

"Correct," said Snape. "And where would I find Chinese Parsley?"

"In a Muggle herb garden. It's also known as cilantro," replied Harry.

Snape turned around and walked towards the board.

_He did it._

But before Snape reached the board, he spun back around to face the class. His face wore a wicked sneer.

_Oh no._

"What is the first difference in procedure between the Draught of True Conviction and the Tonic of Intelligence?"

"I have no idea," replied Harry.

"Not even a guess?" drawled Snape. "Pity, I thought you might actual be competent at Potions. Apparently, I was wrong…" His smirk reappeared on his face as he strode up to the front of the room to write instructions on the board.

Hermione was angry with Snape for the rest of class. There was no way Harry should have been able to get that question, it was beyond NEWT level! Hermione had only seen both potions in a book in Black library long ago, and the difference was too subtle for her to remember…

The rest of Potions class was pretty uneventful. Snape's custom point reductions made an appearance, which only served to irk Hermione more. By the time they left class, she was fuming.

"You know that Harry got fifth year level Potions right, and only when material went to NEWT or post-NEWT level did he not know," said Hermione

"That doesn't seem fair," replied Neville.

"I suppose not," said Harry. "I'm not too worried about it. I read through most of the school books over the summer, and ordered a few more to read that I thought would be helpful. Mind, Aunt Petunia wasn't happy about the owls coming to deliver the books, but I still did it. It was worth it, wasn't it? Charms and Potions have stuck with me..."

"So that's how you knew the answers… but still…I can understand how you would know about a bezoar; but how did you know about Chinese parsley, about _Popus turbatio_?"

"Well first, I've cooked with cilantro before. I had no idea it was a potions ingredient."

"It's used as a stabilizer," interjected Hermione. "Continue."

"And the _Popus turbatio_, it sounded a lot like poppy. I guessed on that one. It was a lucky guess."

"Well, I think you proved you're not just a cocky attention seeker to Snape, which is good," said Hermione. "First impressions are everything."

"Yeah, do you think it'll do me any good?" asked Harry.

"Probably. Can't hurt to have the teacher on your side when grades come out."

"Hermione?" stammered a voice from behind her.

"Yes Neville?"

"How do I get on Snape's g-good side?"

"First, you can't be frightened of him or he'll rule over you, and second of all, you should probably work really hard at getting good at potions, so he can't point out your mistakes and terrorize you…" Hermione began, giving Neville detailed instructions on what to do. Harry just sat back and watched, quite amused, while Ron played a second year at wizard's chess.

The free period was over before they knew it, and it was already time to go to History, taught by one of the least favorite professors. Even by Hermione's usual low standards for the class, it was a less than spectacular History of Magic with the oh-so-boring Professor Binns, the only ghost teacher (and Hermione hoped the last, with his short attention span and boring drawl making it so hard to learn anything). Hermione was positive she was the only one awake only ten minutes in, and Binns wasn't even done calling role call yet!

The foursome was glad to be out of there, but was clearly tired by the time dinner rolled around. Everyone ate a lot to gain some energy, coming close to completely finishing off the dishes at their portion of the table. And it was no surprise to Hermione that they all went to bed early.

Tomorrow wouldn't start well as they'd be back in the dungeons. At least this time, it wasn't double-period. Hermione took solace in that as she closed her eyes to fall asleep.

* * *

Snape completely avoided Harry in class the next morning, instead focusing on himself and demonstrating basic potion-making techniques. The class ended up being about stirring, pouring, and various methods of cutting. Hermione found it very boring, but she supposed that it was always good to establish a good foundation of the basics.

"Now that I'm you all understand the tender art that is chopping mint root," drawled Snape, cleaning up his front desk, "I should introduce your individual project for the rest of the week. In order to demonstrate to me that you have been able to master the rudimentary techniques I have just taught you, you will be brewing a Color Changing Concoction. Can anyone tell me what it does?" Surprisingly, Hermione wasn't the only one to raise her hand. Three people had, including Draco and Harry.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," called Snape.

"It changes color," replied Draco coolly.

"Yes it does," replied Snape, not mad, but slightly irked at Malfoy for stating the obvious. "Can anyone else elaborate more?" Hermione's and Harry's hands were still raised.

"Very well—Mr. Potter?"

"A Color Changing Concoction uses sticky stink leaves to bond to the subject's skin, leading to a color change. I think that's the main idea behind it. Oh, and depending on the main ingredient's type, you can change the color change," replied Harry.

"Almost complete, but not quite. The Concoction, also known as a Chameleon Potion, can also create a desired pattern by the addition of another ingredient. We, however, will focus on the simpler aspects, using only rufus rotundiflora as our main ingredient, creating the desired change to red." Just about as the clock struck nine fifty, Snape added, "And if you have a pet, bring it next time. We will be testing your potions for their effectiveness."

Neville paled, but didn't shake or move like he had before at Snape's threats. Hermione led him out of the room, and halfway across the school, ten floors up, to the Charms corridor, where they met the happy, tiny Professor Flitwick.

"Oh, you must be the first year Gryffindors! Welcome, welcome! The Ravenclaws are already here, feel free to join us," squeaked Filius Flitwick, smiling at his new students as they walked in through the door.

"Very good now. I think a bit of an introduction is in order. A game sounds very good!" said Flitwick, walking through the room and climbing up on his desk, standing on top of a stack of books.

"I'll start then yes? And introduction then something you may not know about me?" asked Flitwick. Hermione nodded vigorously and Flitwick smiled warmly. "Okay, I am Filius Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw House, Charms Professor, I used to be a Dueling Master as well, but that was over fifty years ago, and well, my favorite ice cream flavor is sweet vanilla." Flitwick looked down at a parchment in his hand. "Hmmm, Miss Granger, would you go next?"

Hermione gulped.

"I'm Hermione Granger. I grew up living with Muggles. I can't say I'm a Master of any sort, except maybe a master of my own mind? And hmm something you wouldn't know about me at first glance? Ah, my favorite sport is tennis, but I'm more of a spectator than a player," Hermione said shakily. Everyone began murmuring.

"Shhh," said Flitwick. "Now then, ah, Mr. McDougal, would you do us the honor?"

The little introductions continued the whole class, squeezing new material out of the agenda, much to Hermione's disappointment. The Gryffindors trodded off to another rousing class of History of Magic (which wasn't much better than the first, Binns himself almost fell asleep), which was then followed by a quick bite, a short walk outside, and back inside, double Transfiguration.

Most of the class hadn't perfected their _Simplens Monomatara_ Transfiguration yet. Ron, however, made a complete Transfiguration by the end of class, although Hermione suspected it was a fluke. Harry and Neville, however, didn't have as much luck, and had to do extra research on the Transfiguration for homework.

"What's there to research on it?" asked Harry. "I already glanced over the book on it, not much to it there. And it is supposed to be the simplest Transfiguration."

"It is," answered Hermione. "But that doesn't mean it's not difficult. I'm sure that when you understand the underlying concept you and Neville will be able to make pins, just like Ron and me."

"Don't drag me into this," mumbled Ron as they waked across the grounds to Greenhouse One for Herbology.

"I haven't even done anything to my paperclip," confessed Neville.

"You're probably just not believing in your spell work, that's all," said Hermione. "Don't worry, I'll help you when we get back to the common room tonight, okay?" Neville brightened right up after that and was in a particularly good mood as the Gryffindors filed into the greenhouse with the Hufflepuffs, everyone crowding the door.

"Move along, move along," ushered a stout elderly woman, moving the students into the greenhouse. "There we go! Now we can close this door and get the lesson started! I am Pomona Sprout, your Herbology teacher. I thought we'd have some fun today and start planting some seeds." She reached a hand into her worn, earthen robes and pulled out a handful of tan seeds with sharp, jagged lines on them.

"Can anyone tell me what these are?" Professor Sprout asked.

"Roaring Dandelion seeds, I've planted them before at home," answered Neville excitedly.

"Very good, take five points," said Sprout. Neville positively beamed and Hermione gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Now, today, we will be planting them into special dirt I've made for them. They shouldn't start to really grow until a week later, but I think this will be a good introduction to the joys of Herbology. Now then everyone—Mr. Smith, do not touch the Iranian Pitcher; its acid will burn straight through your hand!" chastised Sprout, catching Zacharias stroking a bright pink plant. He turned as pink as the flower after being called out.

"Now then, everyone partner up, grab a partner, and plant a seed!" Sprout instructed. With Neville, Hermione grabbed a pot of soil and plopped the seed right in. Before they knew it, they were out of the greenhouse and back at dinner.

The rest of the week went by in a blur, even for Hermione. As more and more classes came and presented more material, she began to realize that there were indeed holes in her memory in academic spots, as though someone was presenting her a challenge at school. Not deterred in the slightest, Hermione worked hard that first, week, adjusting to getting up at midnight for Astronomy, running around Hogwarts between classes, stealing away to the library for extra research and practice, and hanging around with her friends throughout it all.

Hermione Granger lived in one beautiful world.


	5. Interlude: My Story

**A/N**: Sorry for the long wait… I'm still alive and writing, you'll be happy to know I've been re-centering the story for this particular arc. Now on with the actual writing!

**Interlude: My Story**

"So did you hear about Professor Sinistra?" Parvati asked Lavender.

"No. What?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I know the reason she didn't come to the Astronomy tower last night…"

As fascinating as their conversation was, Hermione had more pressing matters to attend to than eavesdropping. She rolled her eyes in indignation at their simple gossip and returned to reading her Herbology text. With Parvati and Lavender's constant chatter as background noise, Hermione chiseled away at her Herbology paper. She was making great progress. That is until Liz entered the scene.

A petite girl with a palpable shyness, Liz wore a small white smile that contrasted with her shiny black locks. Overcoming her timid nature, Liz tried to initiate conversation with the gossiping pair standing amidst the stacks of books, but she was ignored. Hermione watched on as Liz, unsure of what to do, stood silently.

Lavender and Parvati continued talking, pretending Liz wasn't even there.

Liz tried to initiate conversation again and again, but her initiatives were thwarted each time. At one point, she gave a loud "hullo," to which Lavender and Parvati responded with by raising the pitch of the conversation.

A second later, Madam Pince popped out from behind a bookshelf and gave all three a loud "shhhh!" Lavender and Parvati glared at Liz; the first ounce of recognition they awarded the girl was an angry silence. Slighted, Liz blushed and her eyes fell to the floor. She looked uncomfortable as she began to sway side to side.

Hermione simply couldn't ignore this social cruelty. For good of all things magic, they were only first years and they were being utter bitches to a girl who was simply saying hello.

Hermione was quite prepared to jump up and give gossiping pair a piece of her mind. She slammed her book shut and stood up. But then fate intervened.

Celes had witnessed the same event that Hermione had, and came to Liz's rescue. Sitting back down, Hermione saw Celes stride over to the group. Reopening her book and pretending to study, Hermione leaned forward, trying to catch the whole exchange.

"What are you up to?" Celes asked kindly, her deep brown eyes gazing at Liz.

"Not much. Just talking," said Liz.

"Doesn't really look like much talking to me," Celes noted, her eyes flashing.

"Well—erm—I walked up, and I guess I was invading their conversation—" Lavender took this moment to butt in.

"You're right you were!" said Lavender.

"Now you talk to her?" asked Celes.

"Yes—we tried to give her the message to leave us to our own privacy, but she wouldn't…"

"I seriously doubt that she would have been invading your little chat," replied Celes.

"Oh, it was very personal," said Parvati. Lavender nodded.

"That mean you don't talk to someone! Liz, you didn't deserve to be ignored when you just wanted to say hello. Really, who's that mean to treat someone as nothing?" replied Celes.

"I don't know," said Liz, staring at her feet.

"Well I know for you. Come with me, we'll have a lot more fun. Like the chance to actually talk."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Now… have you finished that Herbology homework yet…"

The awkward social dancing of the first years had begun.

The participants were many and varied. No one yet knew quite where they belonged, but they were soon discovering those people with whom they clicked.

Some people did come to Hogwarts with connections and friends of many years, but even they hadn't settled in completely. The challenge of social life was large and impending, if not terrifying at times. Some people responded better to the challenge of friendship better than others. While most of the group rushed to fill the social niches, there were those left behind in the dust, left alone while all those around them had become friends. But then came those more socially agile people, who worked towards inclusion for all.

The complicated serenade ended in a strong product: friendship. Like fluid entities, relationships first formed and morphed for the ickle firsties, and then solidified and bringing a steady social dynamic to the Gryffindor Commons.

And mind, this was all in one week. It was impossible to remember exactly when someone began to hang out with someone else, but now it was clear who was closest to whom.

Hermione smiled knowingly as she studied with her friends in the Common Room. Her niche was already quite sturdy, supported by her closely knit friendship web. Yet Hermione felt uneasy.

Navigating the difference between the people of her past and those of her present was difficult. Hermione couldn't help but feel that by accepting these new people, she was leaving behind the ones she had known in her past life. In order to completely connect with these pre-adolescents, she had to accept them as new individuals, disparate entities from the people she knew in her past life. They were quite different, already diverging from her memories. But as she came to accept these new people as her loved ones, was she forgetting the people she loved in her past life? Were these memories overwriting her precious memories, making her lose what she held dear? Or would she ever truly forget them, truly lose the people she loved so dearly?

"Hermione?"

Could she ever forget them?

"Hermione? Are you there? Hulloooo! I thought you never ignored your studying," said Ron, poking her in the arm.

Would she ever lose them, completely replace them with different people? Were these people even the same?

"Give her a break, she's had a long day. Haven't you Hermione?" Harry asked.

"What?" asked Hermione. "I'm sorry, I was thinking about a… problem!"

"Looks like she's had a difficult day," murmured Neville as he scribbled his Potions essay.

"You don't even know the half of it," replied Hermione.

_I don't even know the half of it…. I thought these memories would make everything clearer, but now I'm just confused, and depressed…._

"Have you had enough studying?" asked Harry. "We've done a lot; it's probably time we finished up anyway."

"But we haven't even touched History of Magic!" replied Hermione.

"No one wants to touch it," replied Ron.

"Yeah," said Neville.

"Well then what would you rather we do, hmmm? Go outside and frolic around in the sunshine?" asked Hermione.

"Frolic?" Ron looked confused.

"Dance around and be happy," replied Hermione mechanically.

"Oh, well then yes, I would rather do that," Ron said.

"I agree," Neville added amicably.

"Sounds good, let's go then," said Harry, grinning.

"You can't be serious. I wasn't serious. I was being sarcastic," stated Hermione.

"We don't even know what sarcasm is, let alone what it means," replied Ron full heartedly. Neville nodded in agreement.

"Oh, kill me now," Hermione said.

"No thank you?" said Ron, closing a book.

"On the one hand, I don't know if you're serious about not understanding sarcasm, but then again I was being—ugghh! Let's just go outside already."

"Gladly!"

The quartet closed up their little study group session and made their way outside on that particularly gorgeous Thursday afternoon. The bellflowers were ringing delightfully, the Whomping Wllow was serenading pleasantly in the wind, and the giant octopus was lounging around the lake, splashing a few students jovially. Hermione stared up at the crisp blue autumn sky, her eyes meeting bright oblivion.

It was hard for her to be depressed when everything was so pretty. Here she was, spending time with the mirror images of her memory in a place she had only been in her past life, enjoying just being alive. She peered down for a moment, looking at her friends with a small, knowing smile lining her face.

They were all so different then she remembered… Harry had changed the most, of that much she was certain. He possessed a charisma Hermione had never seen in him before, but he still had a bit of vulnerability and anger. Perhaps those traits simply qualified his good ones, making him a better leader for it. But really, was he the person she loved as a dear friend eons ago, or was he really but an imprint of a memory that would eventually consume the memory itself?

_That almost makes him seem like a Horcrux, though. But then again, he is…_

_How confusing to think of all these levels of complexity. Why on Earth can't my emotions be simpler? Why can't I just have the expected emotional development of someone my age?_

She sighed and turned her attention away from Harry, looking over at Ron and Neville who were chattering away. They too, felt _different_. Ron still had his little brother complex, but he seemed to be coming into his own much quicker this time around. Of course, his immaturity level was still quite high, but such is life with Ron. Somehow though, even if he was immature, he now grasped a better understanding of what was happening around him. It wasn't much, but this basic understanding pervaded him thoroughly, giving him a bit of clue about things.

Neville… he was mystifying as well. Had all he needed was friends to change him so quickly? His stutter, something that accompanied close to every sentence of his, was disappearing. Fast. Hermione had never seen Neville confident until years later in his life, seeing him develop into a true Gryffindor this quickly…

With such change, Hermione couldn't really decide if they were the same people in her memories. In a word, she was bemused. But what did her confusion signify? What would it all mean?

Her internal struggle would arise again, of that she was sure, but for now, Hermione would live in the present, enjoying her limited time.

HGHGHGHGHG

_"Can you not do anything right? This is a simple potion, one that a child would be able to concoct. You on the other hand, cannot even identify it."_

_"I was just trying to improve the potion!"_

_"Your deviation from your class work has resulting in one of the worst efforts I have seen in years Ms. Granger," sneered Professor Snape._

_"That can't be—I did everything right—I don't deserve a failing grade!" cried Hermione._

_"Pity… it would appear you are operating under the guise of misconception. You see, you did everything wrong. Which way, Miss Granger, were you supposed to stir your potion after the addition of pearl milk?"_

"_Counterclockwise, eight and one quarter times."_

"_But did you do that?"_

"_Of course I did, I'm not dense. I know how to follow directions."_

"_Ten points from Gryffindor for arguing against a teacher, and another ten for this abomination you tried to turn in. Let me ask again, did you?"_

"_I thought I did."_

"_Ten points from Gryffindor for not answering the question!"_

_"But I—"  
"Make that fifteen and a detention with Filch!"_

_"I didn't, I added a quarter turn clockwise to give the solution extra cohesion by releasing the lactose elements of the milk," Hermione._

_"That's right, you didn't," said Snape bitingly. "You mixed the solution incorrectly, then added the incorrect form of viral violect venom, and proceeded to cascade into the creation of a horrid potion's whose only ability worth noting is its putrid odor."_

_Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry grabbed her hand before any sound escaped her mouth._

_"Don't, Hermione, just don't," said Harry softly. Hermione looked at him with tearful eyes. But she wouldn't sob, not here in class, not in the face of failure—_

_"I think this Potion deserves a nice big T," said Snape with relish. Hermione gasped. "With a minus." She turned pale. She overheard Ron talking to Harry._

_"Is that even possible?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged his shoulders. _

_In anger, in pure disgust with her failure, all Hermione could do was sit there, glaring at Snape. She had worked extremely hard on improving that potion, and if he couldn't tell what changes she had made, then it wasn't her fault! She could not have completely ruined the potion. It was impossible. She stared at Snape furiously, channeling her anger into her gaze._

_She would not cry, even when she looked into dark eyes._

_That's when she felt it. Sometone was in her mind. It felt like something in her brain, but then again, she didn't actually feel anything…_

_It was a Legilimency attack. Only once before had she felt its subtle touch…And if there was an attack, it would require eye contact…He was in her mind. He was reading her thoughts, her memories. And most of her memories were…._

_She couldn't think about them now, she'd have to hide them, try to shield her mind with Occlumency, break the connection between their minds, something…_

_She focused on constructing a barrier around her secrets, an impregnable fortress, something, anything to protect her past. But then she felt something slide through her barrier…_

_She tried to break her eyes from him, but she was inexplicably paralyzed. She couldn't move. Why couldn't she move? She knew she could move, it was such a simple ability, all she had to do was turn her neck, break his gaze, get out of the way. But she simply couldn't. Her eyes stared forward, plunging into darkness, and that memory rose to her mind…. Meeting the Laws… meeting Xuan Wu… living happily…_

_The connection broke. What had Snape seen? Had he seen anything at all? Hermione tried to reassure herself that nothing had happened. After all, Snape hadn't jumped to his feet. He didn't appear any different…_

_"Ms. Granger, will you please come with me?" asked Severus in an oddly reserved voice. She hesitated._

_"That was not a request." She stood up, trembling, and followed him out the door._

_"Put your potions on my desk if you want to receive a grade for your work today. Class dismissed."_

_He led her through winding stairwells, up through the corridors, and down hallways for what seemed like forever. But forever ended. They had reached the Gargoyle._

_"Munching Marbled Mud-Fudge," stated Snape. Such a jovial candy name seemed oddly inappropriate at a time like this. Hermione just watched everything happen, as though it were all too surreal, her thoughts were locked in her head, unmoving, not wanting to go anywhere, not wanting to proceed into the future…_

_The reached the door to Headmaster's office._

_"Please come in, Severus," Dumbledore beckoned kindly. "What brings you here at such a fine hour? I daresay I wasn't expecting you until later, I'm afraid."_

_"It is Ms. Granger, Headmaster. She has something to tell you," stated Snape._

_"I do?" asked Hermione innocently. She wasn't going to budge on anything. Snape didn't necessarily know much, or anything at all…_

_"Yes, you do. Tell us your deepest, darkest secret," stated Snape blandly._

_"I don't think that is completely necessary," Dumbledore said, his tone a bit serious. His eyes sparkled all the same, however._

_"That's quite personal thank you!" remarked Hermione stiffly._

_"Tell us!" urged Snape._

_"I have a right to privacy!" she argued._

_"Not when what you are keeping private is of utmost importance!"_

_"If you have to know… my darkest secret… is my Boggart is Professor McGonagall giving me a failing grade. But that's already happened today in some respect, hasn't it?" bit Hermione defensively. She would not reveal anything, could not, dare not, it would be so disastrous…_

_"I somehow doubt someone of your maturity could have a Boggart so immature, Ms. Granger," drawled Snape. Hermione's face paled as she realized what he had said. "Now if you don't tell us, I'll have to drag the information out of you. I always have Veritaserum on hand for emergencies like these…."_

_Her thoughts broke lose from their padded lock. _

_He knew. He had seen. What would happen? Would everyone hate her? Would she keep her memories, or would they be taken? Would she be all alone, with no one there with her? _

_"Ah, I see I've finally gotten to the matter at hand…" stated Snape, watching as Hermione struggled with the situation._

_"I think this is quite enough," said Dumbledore sternly._

_"I don't," said Snape. "I've been in her mind and seen…. I think it's time she finally tell us who or what she really is…"_

_"You really shouldn't be forcing her to do this, it's her privacy…"_

_"She could be a danger to the school."_

_"I am no such thing!"_

_"I highly doubt that she is any sort of danger," said Dumbledore. "I have faith that my students would confide in me, regardless."_

_"Your faith is misplaced in these unworthy juveniles."_

_"Now Severus, you've gone a bit too far…"_

_"Not far enough at all! You see, when the precocious brat stared me down, I saw into her memories… and I saw things… things an eleven year-old girl shouldn't have had in memories."_

_"What exactly are you trying to say? There was some justification to your invasion of her privacy?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes' twinkle all gone._

_"Yes there was. Because Ms. Hermione Granger here is not eleven at all."_

_Silence._

_"Do you have anything to say in response to this accusation, Ms. Granger. You are, after all, innocent until proven guilty, as long as you are a student here," said Dumbledore. She had been quite silent, listening to everything, hoping it would all blow over. But it wouldn't, here she was, facing it now..._

_"Where would I begin?" she asked._

_"So you're admitting your guilt?" asked Snape, a look a triumph crossing his face._

_"What choice do I have? You have incontrovertible proof in my memories… and maybe me being truthful about this will lessen the harshness of my punishment or future treatment, whatever you want to call it," stated Hermione emotionlessly._

_"You do have a choice. You don't have to tell us. But now that we do know, it might be best, as you put it, for you to tell us more about yourself in your own words," replied Dumbledore soothingly. _

_But all that meant was that her secret would be out, whether she wanted it to be or not._

_"I'll take my chances telling you, then."_

_"A wise decision."_

_"One day, a young Muggleborn got her Hogwarts letter…" and so Hermione told them, everything merging into one giant mix of her past, images flashing through her mind. By the end, Dumbledore looked oddly stern, as though he had already made a decision._

_"This is quite an intriguing development," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "Fudge, Ms. Granger?"_

_"Oh, well, okay," she replied, taking a piece of the crunchy fudge and biting into it. _

_"You certainly have been through a lot, haven't you? Unable to be understood, unable to truly understand your situation…"_

_"I don't completely agree…" said Hermione, swallowing her fudge._

_"Don't contradict the Headmaster," chided Snape._

_"Was that what you had expected, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. Severus shook his head. "It was not what it seemed, I suppose… But now that we do know, it might be prudent to…"_

_"Prudent to do what?"asked Hermione indignantly._

"_Please Ms. Granger. Forgive me," Dumbledore said, looking quite old._

" _I will do no such thing!" said Hermione, edging backwards slowly. The Headmaster raised his wand. She jumped behind her chair._

"_Memoria obstructium!" said Dumbledore. A blue light shattered the chair, and the pieces softly pattered against the ground._

"_You have nowhere to run, Ms. Granger. There's two of us, and one of you, now if you go quietly, we won't hurt you," said Dumbledore._

"_Was that a threat?"_

"_It was an offer."_

"_I don't have to do anything! I'm not the brightest witch of my age for nothing," said Hermione, turning on her foot to run for the door._

"_And I'm not the Headmaster of the premier Wizardry School in the world for naught," said Dumbledore sadly, flicking his wand._

_Hermione saw blue, then knew no more._

_She saw only darkness. But then, blinding light filled her eyes. All that there was was light, nothing else. She felt so alone… but then, what did it mean for her to be alone? Had she ever known anyone? She couldn't remember anything. She saw people come to her and yell at her as though they knew her, as though she had betrayed them. She didn't understand what they meant, but that didn't mean that they cruel words didn't cut her all the same. She felt like she should have known them, which gave her pain enough, but their cruel jeers hurt her so. _

_Everything around her was so confusing, and most of all, she was bemused by herself. Her mind felt like it was collapsing in on itself, with nothing to support it…_

And then Hermione woke up, her sheets drenched in sweat. She was cold, shivering in the damp beddings. She tore off her sheets and ran out to the balcony where she sobbed.

The dream had been awful… one of her worst nightmares realized. Losing everything, including herself, just because of her memories. With them, she was vulnerable. At any one moment, her life could instantly turn on its head. Every moment was precious, nothing was to be taken for granted….

But could she protect herself, protect her memories, and actually feel safe in Hogwarts.

Yes.

Occlumency was the clearest answer. An art she had only read about, and even then, it was in a past life, so it wasn't exactly clear in her mind. But still, a book or two could easily refresh her memory. And although Harry had a tough time with the art, Hermione figured she had better control over her mind. Hopefully, that would make learning it all the easier.

She needed the protection. Of course mental protection had already come across her mind. She had already thought of it. But she thought of herself as more safe than she really was. Being at home, planning for Hogwarts was different than being there, having Snape breathe down your throat. Her simple planning for mental protection would be insufficient. She would have to adjust to what she hadn't accounted for in her predictions.

She should have been more prepared for this, she should have thought ahead, she should have already learned the art.

But she didn't. Being twelve affected her mentally somehow, clouded her judgment, making her feel safer than she was…

And then again, she couldn't possibly have access to Occlumency books until a few months ago, it would have been strange for a Muggle girl to be practicing the art, anyway. And practicing it would have taken a bit of explaining if her parents ever caught her. How would she be able to explain it? Would she reveal her identity to them, or her magic? Would they call her insane?

Her reasoning against studying Occlumency came flooding back to her, but it still didn't soothe her worries. She couldn't help but feel as though she had made the wrong decision. Here she was without protection, when she could have easily taken a few steps to defend her memories.

She'd just learn Occlumency now, that was all there was to it. Her time was better spent dwelling on other conundrums, anyway, like the disaster the Sorting Hat revealed to her, the disaster that her actions had set in motion. Ever since the Laws' warning, it had been hanging over her like a pesky vampire bat trailing her scent. It never left her alone, it was always near the top of her head.

And then there were her friends. She still wasn't sure what they meant to her in relation to her memories, and she still wasn't sure what would happen to her memories. She hoped she would never lose those who she had truly loved. That was her source of hope.

Staring at the starry sky, Hermione breathed deeply. A crisp autumn breeze swept her hair upwards, letting it dance in the wind. She relaxed a bit, swaying on the balcony and closing her eyes.

She would learn Occlumency. It would help her manage her mind, and help her with her secret. That way, no one would find about her. She wasn't ready for that. Not yet, anyway. And when she did tell everyone, it would be on her own terms, of her own discretion, and at her own direction.

Even with that decided, she felt hopeless. How could she ever succeed when everything looked so grim? There was just so much for her to do, how could she ever complete it all? It felt impossible. She was a bright witch, but she didn't feel bright enough to accomplish the task at hand.

Would a eleven year-old girl be able to get through this all?

The simple answer was no.

But then again, Hermione wasn't just any girl, was she?

A/N: Yes the chapter's a lot shorter than usual . And there was a bit of shift in ideas here. Let's just call it a bridge between Act One and Act Two of this story. Now that I've edited the past few chapters, updates should actually be occurring with semi-regularity. Rejoice. Review. And I'll get back to writing.


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